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SARA LORD BAILEY 



WORK AND ART 



BY 



SARA LORD BAILEY 



" Gather instruction from thy youth up, 
So shalt thou find wisdom till thine old age." 



PUBLISHED BY 

GEO. H. WALKER & CO., 

160 Tremont Street, 

Boston, Mass. 






\\\ 

2- 



23105 



Copyright, i 
By Sara Lord Bailey. 

All rights reserved. 

TWO COP If VED 




" Knowledge to the soul 

Is life, and liberty, and peace, 

And while eternal ages roll, 

The joys of knowledge shall increase. 



" The torch of genius is lighted at the altar of enthusiasm. 






PREFACE. 



These fifteen elocutionary exercises are presented in the order 
which has commended itself through several year's experience in pub- 
lic reading and instruction. 

The exercises are named work, as work is the price to be paid to 
attain excellence in the art, even by those with natural qualifications. 

The art finds expression in the selections, which form the clos- 
ing part of the book. 

Sara Lord Bailey. 
Lawrence, Mass. 

Nov. ioth, 1898. 



5 

Lawrence, Mass., November 8, 1898. 
Mrs. Sara Lord Bailey has been for several years a public 
reader, and as such has been favorably known over a large part of 
the United States and Canada. She has also had considerable experi- 
ence as an instructor. 

She has now more fully embodied the principles of her art in a 
series of exercises, which seem to me to make an admirable text-book, 
either for classes or for self instruction. 

William E. Wolcott, 
Pastor of Lawrence Street Congregational Church. 



Hampton, N. H. 
I have examined these fifteen elocutionary exercises, and am 
much pleased with them. The order is natural and progressive. The 
easy exercise leads to the one a little more difficult, and this to one 
still more difficult. It is as helpful a course of instruction in elocu- 
tion as I have seen. And I heartily add my commendation of the 
author as one thoroughly equipped for, as well as naturally adapted 
to instruction in her chosen department ; and as a wise, diligent, en- 
thusiastic and successful teacher of elocution. 

J. A. Ross, 
Pastor of Congregational Church. 



Boston School of Oratory, 7-A Beacon St. 
Boston, July 5th, 1888. 
Sara Lord Bailey's entertainments are fine art representations of 
the humor, pathos and passion of our best English and American 
authors. She has the true art temperament in voice, action and power 
to hold her audiences. She has few superiors now before the public. 
Our graduating classes have averaged sixteen in number ; some of 
whom have made very creditable reputations as public readers, but 
no one has met with so great popular success as has Mrs. Bailey. I 
am certain that she will fill with entire success any appointments 
made for her. 

Moses True Brown, 
Principal of Boston School of Oratory. 



Missouri School for the Blind, 
St. Louis, Mo., June 19, 1889. 
To whom it may concern : 

I take much pleasure in testifying to the excellent work done by 
Mrs. Sara Lord Bailey as teacher of elocution in this school. The 
progress of her pupils, even those with seemingly little talent, was 
rapid ; and in all cases the work was thorough. To those who desire 
the services of a faithful and competent teacher, or a reader of re- 
markable power and ability, I cheerfully recommend her. 

Respectfully, 

Jno. T. Sibley, A. M., M. D., Supt. 



St. Louis, Mo. 
Mrs. Sara Lord Bailey, verily, easily affords an expense of vital, 
vigorous, happy, healthful power in her dramatic recitals which wins 
an audience every time ! Charming in person, of unimpeachable 
character, highly educated in every department of her chosen profes- 
sion, and combining noticeably strong dramatic instinct with exquisite 
finish of art. Well, she needs only to be seen and heard as a public 
reader to be enthusiastically endorsed. 

Very respectfully, 

Ed. L. McDowell, 
Professor Elocution, St. Louis University. 



I. EXERCISE, 



POSITIONS. BOWS. 

i. Composed i. Polite 

2. Advancing 2. Martha Washington 

3. Retreating 

4. Wavering 



POSITION ON THE PLATFORM. 

"Graceful position precedes graceful action." — Austin. 

The speaker should stand easily erect in a graceful, dignified 
attitude, with the breast fronting the audience, head natural, hands 
hanging by the side. There is something in this first Composed 
Position which may prejudice the audience either in his favor or 
against him, — then as the speaker warms and glows with enthus- 
iasm, he steps forward with the right-foot, throwing the weight upon 
it, this Advancing Position places him in sympathy with his listen- 
ers. The body retreats to the Backward Position when the senti- 
ment expresses — dread, fright, horror or anything akin to these. 

When he is uneasy, constantly changing the weight from one 
foot to the other, he shows bashfulness, indecision, or anxiety, etc. 
This is called the Wavering Position — and should ; not be indulged 
in unless the sentiment requires it. 

BOWS. 

1. Polite Bow : — 

A graceful inclination of the head, bending the body slightly. 

2. Martha Washington : — 

Draw right-foot back, holding the dress on either side, make 
small courtesy, merely bending the knees. 



BREATHING. 

1 . Effusive or Flowiitg. 

2. Expulsive or Rushing. 

3. Explosive or Bursting. 



8 

i. Effusive. 

(Inhale slowly and naturally, give out the breath in the sound of 
the letter " V.") 

2. Expulsive. 

(Inhale slowly, exhale on the word " Ha") 

3. Explosive. 

(Take a full inspiration, extend both arms forward, expel breath 
quickly and with force, on the vowel sound " I." At the same time 
stepping backward with right-foot, arms falling apart.) 



DRILL OF THE SEVEN LONG SOUNDS. 

(Practice daily for excellence in reading.) 
eel, ale, air, farm, fall, fold, ooze. 



DRILL TO ATTAIN FLEXIBILITY OF FINGERS, WRISTS, 
HANDS AND BODY. 

FINGERS AND HANDS. BODY. 

1 . Shaking fingers i . Rotate left — head right 

2. Shaking hands 2. Rotate right — head left 

3. Up and down 3. Swing forward — head backward 

4. Side to side 4. Swing backward — head forward 

5. Inward and outward 5. Bend and rise in rapid succes- 

6. Rotate right and left sion 



VOICE AND GESTURE DRILL. 



THE FAIRIES. 

Up the airy mountain, 

Down the rushy glen, 
We daren't go a- hunting 

For fear of little men ; 
Wee folk, good folk, 

Trooping all together ; 
Green jacket, red cap, 

And white owl's feather ! 



Down along the rocky shore 

Some make their home, 
They live on crispy pancakes 

Of yellow tide-foam ; 
Some in the reeds 

Of the black mountain-lake, 
With frogs for their watch-dogs, 

All night awake. 

High on the hill-top 

The old king sits ; 
He is now so old and gray 

He's nigh lost his wits. 
With a bridge of white mist 

Columbkill he crosses, 
On his stately journeys 

From Slieveleague to Rosses ; 
Or going up with music 

On cold starry nights, 
To sup with the Queen 

Of the gay Northern Lights. 

They stole little Bridget 

For seven years long ; 
When she came down again 

Her friends were all gone. 
They took her lightly back, 

Between the night and morrow, 
They thought that she was fast asleep, 

But she was dead with sorrow. 
They have kept her ever since 

Deep within the lakes, 
On a bed of flag-leaves, 

Watching till she wakes. 

By the craggy hill-side, 

Through the mosses bare, 
They have planted thorn trees 

For pleasure here and there. 
Is any man so daring 

As dig one up in spite, 
He shall find the thornies set 

In his bed at night. — William Allingham. 



II. EXERCISE. 



BREATHING. ARM MOVEMENTS. 

i. Chest — Active and Passive i. Descending, Front 

2. Abrupt 2. Horizontal, Oblique 

3. Delsarte 3. Ascending, Lateral 

1 . Active and Passive Chest :— 

( 1 . Inhale and hold chest strongly braced while repeating, a, e, 
i, o, u.) (2. Inhale and relax chest, breathing out the word " Ha") 

2 . Abrupt : — 

(Take a full inspiration, clench hands and draw up to arm-pits. 
Expel breath suddenly with forcible downward motion of the arms.) 

3. Delsarte : — 

(Advance with the right foot, rise on toes. Inhale slowly at 
same time the arms are curved on chest, sustain — Relax the mus- 
cles. Exhale slowly on the word " Ha" returning to position.) 

ARM MOVEMENTS. 

Arm Movements are innumerable and relate to the Vertical 
and Horizontal plane, or up and down and across the body. 

In the Vertical or up and down plane we mark three spheres, 
1 st. The Ascending or elevated, emotional sphere. 2nd. The De- 
scending or the domain of the will, the vital power. 3rd. Hori- 
zontal or mental sphere. 

In the Horizontal Plane we find three movements in Front, 
three in Oblique, and three in Lateral. Our Front movements 
are stronger, more direct and personal. The Oblique, general ideas, 
and used more. Lateral showing remoteness in time or space. 

The Supine, Prone and Vertical hand carried through these points 
will suffice for ordinary expression. 

The special movements are to be studied only when these are 
thoroughly mastered. 



DRILL OF THE SEVEN SHORT SOUNDS. 

/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ 

it, et, her, hat, don, tub, book. 



II 
VOCAL CULTURE DRILL. 

Practice, Patience, Perseverance. 

— — A A A A 

Are you, are you. up, up, up, up. 

Can you hear? Aye! aye! sir. 

Me-ow, me— ow. Kind, king, kneel, 

o o o o-o o o o. le, la, law-lo. 

Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! Charcoal (3 times) 

Bells, bells, bells, bells, bells. Blow bugle blow. 

A. arm— ate— ask— add. 

b. bib— boy-blaze— blue. 

c. cease— claw— clam— click. 

d. did— drill— dread-dross. 

e. eve-end-even-endless. 

f. fling-flare-flat-flew. 

G. gleam— gloss-glad-glare. 

h. hark-high-hail-holy. 

1. ice-imps-inch-ink. 

j. j ill— jam-jump-joy. 

k. kind— keep— kill-king. 

l. linger-light-live-lost. 

m. mother-mine-most-met. 

n. never-none-noble-notion. 

o. ooze-on-oak-odd. 

p. poverty-pride-palace-perish. 

q. queer-quaint-quack-quick. 

r. run-roam— red-reel. 

s. star— sinp— ships-send. 

t. three-times-think— taste. 

u. urn-under-umbrella. 

v. verily— vain— void— value. 

w. wild— word— wind-wan. 

x. xebec— xenotime— xanthic. 

y. yawn-yell-young-yellow. 

z. zeal— zone— zero— zigzag. 



12 

ARTICULATED WHISPER, 
i. Effusive. 

Heard ye the whisper of the breeze, 

As soft it murmured by 
Amid the shadowy forest trees ? 

It tells, with meaning sigh, 
Of the bowers of bliss on that viewless shore, 
Where the weary spirit shall sin no more. 

2. Expulsive. 

[From " Military Command." — Anon.~\ 
Soldiers ! You are now within a few steps of the enemy's out- 
post ! Our scouts report them as slumbering in parties around their 
watch-fires, and utterly unprepared for our approach. A swift and 
noiseless advance around that projecting rock and we are upon them. 
We capture them without the possibility of resistance. One disorderly 
noise or motion may leave us at the mercy of their advanced guard. 
Let every man keep the strictest silence under pain of instant death. 

3. Explosive. 

" Up ! up Glentarkin, rouse thee, hoi ! " 

(Horror, alarm) 
Avaunt ! and quit my sight ! Let the earth hide thee ! 
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; 
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes 
Which thou dost glare with ! — Shakespeare. 



III. EXERCISE. 



DRILL OF THE FOUR DOUBLE SOUNDS. 
isle — voice — ow — u 



ALPHABET OF ARTICULATION. 

No excellence in reading without distinct articulation. 

A. Andrew Airpump asked his aunt her ailment. 
Did Andrew Airpump ask his aunt her ailment? 
If Andrew Airpump asked his aunt her ailment 
What was the ailment Andrew Airpump's aunt had ? 

B. Billy Buttonbox buttered a butter biscuit. 
Did Billy Buttonbox butter a butter biscuit ? 
If Billy Buttonbox buttered a butter biscuit 

Where is the butter biscuit Billy Buttonbox buttered ? 

C. Captain Crackskull cracked a catchpoles coxcomb. 
Did Captain Crackskull crack a catchpoles coxcomb ? 
If Captain Crackskull cracked a catchpoles coxcomb 

Where is the catchpoles coxcomb Captian Crackskull cracked? 

D. David Doldrum dreamt he drove a dreadful dragon. 
Did David Doldrum dream he drove a dreadful dragon? 
If David Doldrum dreamt he drove a dreadful dragon 
Where is the dreadful dragon David Doldrum dreamt he drove? 

E. Enoc Elcridge eating an empty eggshell. 
Did Enoc Elcridge eat an empty eggshell ? 
If Enoc Elcridge ate an empty eggshell 
Where is the empty eggshell Enoc Elcridge ate ? 

F. Frances Frizzleton figured on a frenchman's fiddle. 
Did Frances Frizzleton figure on a frenchman's fiddle? 
If Frances Frizzleton figured on a frenchman's fiddle 
Where is the frenchman's fiddle Frances Frizzleton figured on? 



H 

Gr. Gaffer Gillpin got a goose and gander. 
Did Gaffer Gillpin get a goose and gander? 
If Gaffer Gillpin got a goose and gander 
Where is the goose and gander Gaffer Gillpin got? 

H. Humphry Hunchman had a hundred hedgehogs. 

Did Humphry Hunchman have a hundred hedgehogs? 

If Humphry Hunchman had a hundred hedgehogs 

Where are the hundred hedgehogs Humphry Hunchman had? 

I. Inigo Impy iched for an indian image. 

Did Inigo Impy ich for an indian image? 

If Inigo Impy iched for an indian image 

Where is the indian image Inigo Impy iched for? 

J. Jumping Jockey jeered a jesting juggler. 
Did Jumping Jockey jeer a jesting juggler? 
If Jumping Jockey jeered a jesting juggler 
Where is the jesting juggler Jumping Jockey jeered at? 

K.. Kimbo Kickset kicked his kinsman's kettle. 
Did Kimbo Kickset kick his kinsman's kettle? 
If Kimbo Kickset kicked his kinsman's kettle 
Where is the kinsman's kettle Kimbo Kickset kicked ? 

Ii. Lanky Lawrence lost his lass and lobster. 

Did Lanky Lawrence lose his lass and lobster? 
If Lanky Lawrence lost his lass and lobster 
Where is the lass and lobster Lanky Lawrence lost ? 

M. Minnie Moses mused and moaned momentarily. 
Did Minnie Moses muse and moan momentarily? 
If Minnie Moses mused and moaned momentarily 
Where is Minnie Moses who momentarily mused and moaned? 

N. Nitty Noodle knit his neighbors nutmegs. 
Did Nitty Noodle knit his neighbors nutmegs? 
If Nitty Noodle knit his neighbors nutmegs 
Where are his neighbor's nutmegs Nitty Noodle knit? 

O. Oliver Oglethorpe ogled an ogling owl. 
Did Oliver Oglethorpe ogle an ogling owl ? 
If Oliver Oglethorpe ogled an ogling owl 
Where is the ogling owl Oliver Oglethorpe ogled? 



l 5 

P. Peter Pepperstone picked and pickled a peck of Piper's 

peaches. 
Did Peter Pepperstone pick and pickle a peck of Piper's peaches ? 
If Peter Pepperstone picked and pickled a peck of Piper's 

peaches 
Where is the peck of Piper's peaches Peter Pepperstone picked 

and pickled? 

Q. Queeny Quarrelsom quarrelled with an old queer quack. 
Did Queeny Quarrelsom quarrel with an old queer quack? 
If Queeny Quarrelsom quarrelled with an old queer quack 
Where is the old queer quack Queeny Quarrelsom quarrelled 
with ? 

R. Rory Rumpus rode a raw-boned racer. 

Did Rory Rumpus ride a raw-boned racer? 

If Rory Rumpus rode a raw-boned racer 

Where is the raw-boned racer Rory Rumpus rode? 

S. Sara Selly sells sea shells and she says she shall sell sea shells. 

Did Sara Selly sell sea shells and say she should sell sea shells ? 
If Sara Selly sold sea shells and said she should sell sea shells 
Where are the sea shells Sara Selly said she should sell ? 

T. Tip Toe Tommy turned a top for tenpence. 

Did Tip Toe Tommy turn a top for tenpence? 
If Tip Toe Tommy turned a top for tenpence 
Where is the top for tenpence Tip Toe Tommy turned ? 

U. Ugly Usinus used Urania's umbrella, 

Did Ugly Usinus use Urania's umbrella ? 
If Ugly Usinus used Urania's umbrella 
Where is Urania's umbrella Ugly Usinus used ? 

V. Valentine Vox vowed he vanquished a viper. 
Did Valentine Vox vow he vanquished a viper ? 
If Valentine Vox vowed he vanquished a viper 
Where is the viper Valentine Vox vowed he vanquished? 

W. Willie Wimpleton wept at a wonderful wedding. 

Did Willie Wimpleton weep at a wonderful wedding? 

If Willie Wimpleton wept at a wonderful wedding 

Where was the wonderful wedding Willie Wimpleton wept at ? 



i6 

X. Xantippe Xanthepinstick found Xenotime. 
Did Xantippe Xanthepinstick find Xenotime ? 
If Xantippe Xanthepenstick found Xenotime 
Where is the Xenotime Xantippe Xanthepinstick found ? 

Y. Yankee Yawning yesterday yearned for yeast. 
Did Xankee Yawning yesterday yearn for yeast ? 
If Yankee Yawning yesterday yearned for yeast 
Where is the yeast Yankee Yawning yesterday yearned for ? 

Z. Zealous Zachariah zealously sought Zeno. 
Did Zealous Zachariah zealously seek Zeno? 
If Zealous Zachariah zealously sought Zeno 
Where was Zeno Zealous Zachariah zealously sought? 



A LITTLE BOY'S POEM AS RECITED BY HIMSELF. 

An humble boy with a shining pail, 
Went gladly singing adown the dale, 
To where the cow with the brindle tail 
On clover her palate did regale. 
An humble bee did gayly sail 
Far over the soft and shadowy vale, 
To where the boy with the shining pail 
Was milking the cow with the brindle tail, 
The bee lit down on the cow's left ear, 
Her heels flew up through the atmosphere — 
And through the leaves of a chestnut tree, 
The boy soared into futurity. 







. 



\ 




VEHEMENCE 
This attitude expresses force in explosion. 



IV. EXERCISE. 



DRILL OF THE HALF VOCALS. 
b—d-g—j—v—th—z—zh 



FIRST SET OF OPPOSITIONS. 
He a d—Ha n d—A rm . 

i. Hands crossed on chest — Head bowed. 

2. Hands out in salutation — Head erect. 

3. Hands extended prone — Head back. 

4. Hands to right ascending — Head left. 

5. Hands folded at left shoulder — Head right. 

6. Hands right in rejection — Head left. 

7. Hands out in salutation — Head raised. 

8. Hands clasped at chest — Head bowed. 

9. Hands appealing to Heaven — Head back. 
10. Hands falling apart — Bowing low. 



VOICE AND GESTURE DRILL. 

(Musical tones-tenderness.) 

THOSE EVENING BELLS. 

Those evening bells ! those evening bells ! 
How many a tale their music tells 
Of youth, and home, and that sweet time 
When last I heard their soothing chime ! 

Those joyous hours are pass'd away ; 
And many a heart that then was gay 
Within the tomb now darkly dwells, 
And hears no more those evening bells. 

And so 'twill be when I am gone, — 
That tuneful peal will still ring on ; 
While other bards shall walk these dells, 
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells. 

— Thomas Moore. 



i8 

DIFFICULT SENTENCES FOR PRACTICE. 

The following exercises are designed for the cultivation of a dis- 
tinct articulation : — 

i . Thucydides, Herodotus, and Xenophon are the great historians 
of antiquity. 

2. That lasts till night, on that last still night. 

3. This act more than all other acts, of the Legislature, laid the axe 

at the root of the evil. 

4. He accepts the office, and attempts by his acts to conceal his faults. 

5. Don't you remember that the magistrates arrested the rogues? 

6. The heights, depths, and breadths of the subject. 

7. u Quips, and Cranks, and wanton wiles, 

Nods, and Becks and wreathed smiles.'''' 

8. " There on beds of violets blue, 

And fresh blown roses washed in dew." 

9. Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids ; 

Her monuments shall last, when Egypt's fall. 

10. " Because thou hast not asked riches, wealth, or honor, neither 
yet hast asked long life, but hast asked wisdom and knowledge 
for thyself ; wisdom and knowledge is granted unto thee." 

11. " This was the most unkindest cut of all." 

12. " Thou that dost scare the world with tempests set on fire, 

The heavens with falling thunderbolts, or fill 
The swift dark whirlwind that uproots the woods, 
Where is the mortal that forgets not at the sight 
Of these tremendous tokens of thy power, 
His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by." 

13. "Take heed, and beware of covetousness : for a man's life con- 
sisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth." 

14. Theophilus Thistlethwaite, the successful thistle sifter, in sift- 
ing a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles through 
the thick of his thumb ; now, if Theophilus Thistlethwaite, the success- 



19 

ful thistle sifter, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust three 
thousand thistles through the thick of his thumb, see that thou in sifting 
a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust not three thousand thistles 
through the thick of thy thumb. Success to the successful thistle sifter. 



15. TWO BOOT-BLACKS. 

A day or two ago, during a lull in business, two little boot-blacks 
one white and one black, were standing at the corners doing nothing, 
when the white boot-black agreed to black the black boot-black's 
boots. The black boot-black was of course willing to have his boots 
blacked by his fellow boot-black, and the boot-black who had agreed 
to black the black boot-black's boots went to work. 

When the boot-black had blacked one of the black boot-black's 
boots till it shone in a manner that would make any boot-black proud, 
this boot-black who had agreed to black the black boot-black's boots 
refused to black the other boot of the black boot-black, until the black 
boot-black who had consented to have the white boot-black black his 
boots, should add five cents to the amount the white boot-black had 
made blacking other men's boots. This the boot-black whose boot had 
been blacked refused to do, saying it was good enough for a black boot- 
black to have one boot blacked, and he didn't care whether the boot that 
the boot-black hadn't blacked was blacked or not. 

This made the boot-black who had blacked the black boot-black's 
boot as angry as a boot-black often gets, and he vented his black wrath 
by spitting upon the blacked boot of the black boot-black. This 
roused the latent passions of the black boot-black, and he proceeded 
to boot the white boot black with the boot which the white boot-black 
had blacked. A fight ensued, in which the white boot-black who had 
refused to black the unblacked boot of the black boot-black, blacked 
the black boot-black's visionary organ, and in which the black boot- 
black wore all the blacking off his blacked boot in booting the white 
boot-black. 



15. THE DUEL BETWEEN MR. SHOTT AND MR. NOTT. 

A duel was lately fought in Texas by Alexander Shott and John 
S. Nott. Nott "was shot, and Shott was not. In this case it is better 
to be Shott than Nott. There was a rumor that Nott was not shot, 
and Shott avows that he shot Nott, which proves either that the shot 
Shott shot at Nott was not shot, or that Nott was shot notwithstanding. 



20 

Circumstantial evidence is not always good. It may be made to ap- 
pear on trial that the shot Shott shot shot Nott, or, as accidents with 
fire arms are frequent, it may be possible that the shot Shott shot shot 
Shott himself, when the whole affair would resolve itself into its orig- 
inal elements, and Shott would be shot, and Nott would not be shot. 
We think, however, that the shot Shott shot shot not Shott, but Nott ; 
anyway, it is hard to tell who was shot. — Harper's Weekly. 






V. EXERCISE. 



i. Tongue Tones. L-r-far. 
2. Nasals, m-n-ng. 



ELEMENTARY DRILL OF THE HAND AND FINGERS. 

Sheridan says : — " Every one knows that with the hands we can 
demand or promise, call, dismiss, welcome, threaten, supplicate, 
show joy, sorrow, fear, admiration, respect, and many other things 
now in common use." 



HAND. 

i. Palm or vital part. 

2. Side or mental part. 

3. Back or emotive. 

4< 



FINGERS. 

1. THUMB-vital. 

2. First FiNGER-indicative. 

3. Second and TniRD-emotive. 
Little FiNGER-sensitive. 



supine 


moulding 


slapping 


pointing 


flattering 


prone 


defining 


trembling 


applied 


accusing 


vertical 


affirming 


wringing 


flourishing 


caressing 


clenched 


marking 


pulling 


ennumerating 


warning 


inward 


rubbing 


pushing 


convulsions 


repulsing 


outward 


concealing 


threatening 


zigzag 


painting 


accepting 


presenting 
VOP 


commanding 


meekness 
,TURE. 


listening 




oE AND GES 





THE ARABIC PARABLE. 

(First read, then give in Pantomime.) 

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !) 
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, 
And saw within the moonlight of his room, 
Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, 
An angel writing in a book of gold. 
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold ; 



22 

And to the presence in the room he said, 

" What writest thou? " The vision raised its head, 

And, with a look made all of sweet accord, 

Answered, " ' The names of those who love the Lord,' 

' And is mine one? ' asked Abou. ' Nay not so,' 

Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, 

But cheerly still ; and said, ' I pray thee, then, 

Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.' 

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night 

It came again, with a great wakening light, 

And showed the names whom love of God had blest ; 

And, lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest." — Leigh Hunt. 



ELEMENTARY CHART. 

Practice ten minutes daily for strength and clearness of tone, as 
well as for correct, elegant articulation. 

(26 letters=44 elementary sounds.) 
Long Sounds. 



Shor- 



I. 


e - 


as in 


- me - eve - mete. 


2. 


a 


a 


ale — may - tate. 


3- 


a 


a 


air - pair - share. 


4- 


a 


u 


arm — bar - father. 


5- 


a 


u 


all - fall — law. 


6. 


6 


u 


old - no - home. 


7- 


66 


a 


ooze — moon — food. 


Sounds. 








1. 


1 - 


as in 


- it- pit - live. 


2. 


e 


it 


pet - debt - met. 


3- 


e 


u 


err — verge - verse. 


4- 


a 


a 


add-fat-bad. 


5- 


6 


a 


on — odd — not. 


6. 


u 


a 


up-cup-sup. 


7- 


66 


a 


book - root - wood. 


: Sounds 


. 






1. 


i — 


as in 


- ice - isle - fly. 


2. 


oi 


u 


oil - boy - joy. 


3- 


ow 


4 i 


owl — row — cow. 


4- 


u 


u 


lute - few - due. 



2 3 



Half Tones. 



Nasals. 



LlNGUALS. 



I. 

2 . 

3- 



b- 
d 
g 
J 

V 

th 

z 

zh 



111 - 
11 

llg 

L- 

r 

r 



as in 

a 



as in 



bib - babe - bid. 

did— dead— dug. 

go-gave-gone. 

judge - John - June. 

vim-vent-value. 

thee - thou - breathe. 

zest - zeal - ooze. 

azure — measure — pleasure. 

moon - men. 
nun - nine, 
king - sting. 



as in - lull - bill. 



Aspirate Explodents. 



p — as in 
t " 

k 



Aspirate Continuants. 

i. ch - as 

2. f " 

3- th 

4. s " 

5. sh " 

6. h 

7. wh " 

United Sounds. 



rise - run. 
far- star. 



pipe - pip - pen. 
tite - tot — tin. 
kite - kick - kin. 



church — chin — chide, 
fife - fine - fiend, 
thin - think — thistle, 
sin — sun — see. 
shame - shun — shield, 
home - he - has. 
when — where - which. 



1. w — as m — we — way — went. 

2. y " yes-yet— yawn. 

(C-q-x— have no sound which are not given by other letters. ) 

WORK. 

And I say to you as my old master said to me: " Patience, 
Per severance, Persistency, Pertinacity, Push, and Practice, must 
produce Perfection." 



2 4 



VI. EXERCISE. 



Toneless Sounds. 

A. Explosive. P-t-k-ch. 

B. Continuous, f-th-s-sh-h-wh. 



ELEMENTARY DRILL OF INFLECTIONS. 

(Practice Inflections for expressive movement of voice.) 
' Feathers float in the air. Weighty things fall to the ground." 



i. Give the Seven Long Sounds with Rising Slide. 

„.- /////// 

Did you say — eel-ale-atr-arm-all-old-ooze. 

Rising Inflection. (Surprise-questioning-suspended-sense.) 

i. " What, is my mother here ? " 

2. " Must I observe you? " 

3. She looks as clear 

As many roses washed in dew. — Shakespeare, 

(Lively.) 

4. 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house 
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse, 

And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap, 
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap, 
When out on the lawn there rose such a clatter — 
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. 

(Flattery.) 

5. " I pray thee remember I have done thee worthy service; told 
thee no lies, made no mistakings, served without grudge or grumb- 
lings." 



25 

2. Give the Seven Long Sounds with Falling Slide. 

\ \ \ \ \ \ \ 
Yes, I said — eel-ale— atr— arm-all— old-ooze. 

Falling Inflection — carries the voice down through a succession 
of tones. 

(determination-positiveness-completeness of sense.) 

i. " It is my living sentiment, and, by the blessing of God, it shall 
be my dying sentiment, independence now and independence for- 
ever." 

2. Age thou art shamed 
Rome thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods ! 
When went there by an age since the great flood, 
But it was famed with more than with one man. 

— Sh a k esp eai'e. 

3. Heaven and earth ! Let me not think on't 
Frailty, thy name is woman ! — Hamlet. 



3. Give the Seven Long Sounds with Circumflex Inflection. 

eel— ale— air-arm— all— old— ooze. 

Circumflex Inflection, (sarcasm-scorn-irony.) 

1. " And, did they ask you? " 

2. " Has the gentleman done? 
Has he completely done ? " 

3. For Brutus is an honorable man, 

So are they all, all honorable men. — Julius Ccesar. 

4. " Indeed ! he is your friend, is he? 

What ! has he assured you that he is my friend." 

5. " We ! what page in the last court grammer 
made you a plural ? " 



4. Give the Seven Long Sounds with Special Inflections. 
Exclamations, Cries, Sobs, Sighs, Groans and Laughter. 



26 

Exclamations, (abrupt sounds.) 

i . A horse ! a horse ! My kingdom for a horse ! — Richard III. 

2. The foe ! They come ! they come ! — Byron. 

3. Up ! comrades, up — in Rokebys' halls 
Ne'er be it said our courage falls ! — Scott. 



5. Cries. (Joy-) 

1. u Long live the king ! " 

(Joy-cheers.) 

2. " Shout upon shout rang through the crowded circus and soon, 
above the cheers, could be distinguished the cry ; ' Pardon, pardon 
for the Jew.' No galleys ! no galleys ! Life, life for the son of 
Simon ! " 



6. Sobs. (Grief.) 

1. " My little girl, my bonny blue eyed Bess, is dead. 

2. " Then suddenly rang a sharp, low cry ! 

Bess sank on her knees, and wildly tossed 
Her withered arms in the summer sky, — 

Willie ! Willie ! My lad ! my lost ! 
The Lord be praised ! after sixty years 

1 see you again ! The tears you cost, 
O Willie, darling, were bitter tears ! " 



7. Sighs. (Reflective.) 

Somehow, Joe, I thought of the "Ferry," 
And the dance that we had on " the Fork " 
Of the moon that was quietly sleeping 
On the hills, when the time came to go ; 
Of the few baby peaks that were peeping 
From under their bed-clothes of snow ; 

Of that ride that — to me was the rarest; 

Of the something you said at the gate ; 

Ah, Joe, then I wasn't an heiress 

To " the best paying lead in the State." — Bret Harte. 



27 

8. Groans. (Pain, mental or physical.) 

i. "Dead, both my boys, one shot in the sea by the East, one shot 
in the West by the sea." 

2. Here's the smell of the blood still. All the perfumes of Arabia 
will not sweeten this little hand. — Oh ! oh ! oh ! — Lady Macbeth. 



9. Laughter. 

" There were sixty horses in the field all metal to the bone. The 
start was a picture ! Away we flew in a cloud — pell-mell, helter- 
skelter, the fools first as usual using themselves up. We soon passed 
them. First your Kitty, then my Blue-skin, and Craven's colt last 
Then came the tug ! Kittie skimmed the walls, Blue-skin flew over 
the fences, the colt neck to neck and half a mile to run. At last, the 
colt balked a leap and went wild. Then Kittie and I had it all to 
ourselves. She was three lengths ahead as we breasted the last wall 
— six feet if an inch, and a ditch on the other side. Then for the 
first time, I gave Blue-skin his head. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha ! Away he 
went like a thunderbolt. Over went the filly, I over the same spot, 
leaving Kitty in the ditch, walked the steeple, eight miles in thirty 
minutes, and scarcely turned a hair." 



CADENCE. 

10. Cadence : — control of the cadence is a distinguished accom- 
plishment. This is done by dropping the voice at the close of 
the sentence, indicating that the sense is finished. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. "In teaching me the way to live, 
It taught me how to die." 

2. " Not a tear must o'er her fall ; 
He giveth His beloved sleep." 

3. "I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord ; he that be- 
lieveth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live : and whosoever 
liveth and believeth in me shall never die." — Bible. 



28 

CLIMAX. 

1 1. Climax — (is a gradual heightening of all the circumstances, 
which we desire to present in a strong light.) 

(Effect-grandeur.) 

i. " Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn, despair, 
And all the passions, all the soul is there ; " 

2. Yet she had remembrance enough to turn her blind eyes toward 
the east and murmur, in her terror of that white dawn that must soon 
break, the only prayer that had ever been uttered by the lips no 
mother's kiss had ever touched : — " God ! keep the day back." 

— Out da. 

3. The murmuring of many voices, the upturning of many faces, 
the pressing on of many footsteps in the outskirts of the crowd, so 
that it swells forward in a mass, like one great heave of water, all 
flashes away. — Dickens. 

4. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
Straining upon the start, The games' afoot : 
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge, 
Cry — God for Harry, England, and Saint George ! 






2 9 



VII. EXERCISE. 



Front Scale of Vowels — eel-it— ale-et-at. 

/\ /\ 

Back Scale of Vowels — ooze— book— old— all— on. 



HEAD— ARM— ELBOW— SHOULDER. 

( ll The proper study of mankind is man." ) 



i. Man is Vital having life and energy. 

2. Man is Intellectual having thought. 

3. Man is Emotive having affection. 



The divisions of the body are Head, Torso, Limbs. These are 
known as Mental, Vital and Emotive, and are sub-divided into parts 
also Mental — Emotive — Vital. 

All gestures, movements and attitudes of the body and its several 
parts may be classified as : — 

Vital, expressing energy. 
Intellectual, expressing thought. 
Emotive, expressing feeling. 



HEAD. 

1. Forehead is mental. 

2. Cheek is emotive. 

3. Mouth and chin is vital. 
Head up and down — expresses assent. 

" side to side — expresses negation. 

" thrown back in pride. 

" natural (easily erect) in calm repose. 

' ' leans toward object — in sympathy-affection. 

" leans from object — in suspicion— hate— distrust. 

" sinks on chest — in humility-shame-deep thought. 

u lifted toward Heaven — in sacred devotion— adoration. 



3° 

ARM. 

The divisions of the arm are three. 

i. The shoulder is vital. 

2. The elbow is emotive. 

3. The wrist is mental. 
The shoulder raised — in indignation. 

" " lowered — in prostration. 

" " advanced — in endurance. 

" " thrown back — in pride. 

Delsarte called the shoulder "the thermometer of sensibilitv.' 



ELBOW. 

1. Turned out — in conceit-audacity. 

2. Turned in — in weakness— despondency. 

3. Natural — calm repose-modesty. 
The elbow may suggest affection and will. 
The wrist is strong and guides the hand. 



GESTURE. 

The ancients attached great importance to action, and grace- 
ful, animated gestures are just as necessary and pleasing now as 
they were in the days of antiquity. Nature proves action or motion 
to be an element of beauty, the graceful waving trees, the motion of 
the ever changing clouds, the rippling water, waving grass, and motion 
of the birds must be always graceful. 

Gesture addresses itself to the eye and is reflected from the heart. 
The ancient orators were divided in opinion as to whether voice or 
gesture possessed the greater influence. Roscius boasted that he 
could express sentiment "as many different ways by his gesture as 
the great Cicero could by his voice." 

There are a few general rules regarding gesture, with which the 
speaker should be familiar, his attitude toward his audience, the direc- 
tion of the arm movements — position of hands — arm — and elbow. I 
have asked different pupils, at least ten times in five minutes, to please 
keep the hand open. It is a glaring fault to gesticulate with the fist, 
unless, indeed, we are very angry. 



3 1 
The following illustration will speak for itself : — 
In the days of King James II. of England, an eminent clergyman, 
who was honored with the attendance of the king at his church, wish- 
ing to impress upon the king's mind an important truth, fixed his eye 
upon him, and clenching his fist, struck upon the desk with great force 
as he exclaimed, " There who dares to deny that?'" "No one," 
said King James in a low voice, " that stands in reach of your fist." 

Too many gestures are to be avoided, as well as mechanical ones 
— Shakespeare's advice — " Suit the action to the word — the word to 
the action " is the soul of eloquence. 

(Study Hamlet's Advice to the Players.) 



HAMLET'S ADVICE TO THE PLAYERS. 

Middle Pitch, Moderate Movement, Expulsive Form, Energetic 

Force. 

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trip- 
pingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, 
I had as lief the town crier had spoken my lines. And do not saw 
the air too much with your hands, but use all gently, for in the very 
torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you 
must beget a temperance that will give it smoothness. 

O it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious, periwig-pated 
fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the 
groundlings, who (for the most part) are capable of nothing but in- 
explicable dumb shows and noise. Pray you avoid it. 

Be not too tame either, but let your own discretion be your tutor. 
Suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this special 
observance, that you overstep not the modesty of nature, for anything 
so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end is to hold, as 
it were, the mirror up to nature, to show virtue her own feature, scorn 
her own image, and the very age and body of the times their form 
and pressure. 

Now this overdone, or come tardy off, though it may make 
the unskillful laugh cannot but make the judicious grieve, the cen- 
sure of which one must, in your allowance, outweigh a whole 
theatre of others. O there be players that I have seen play, and 
heard others praise, and that highly — not to speak it profanely — 



3 2 

that neither having the accent of Christian nor the gait of Chris- 
tian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have 
thought some of nature's journeymen had made men and not made 
them well, they imitated humanity so abominably. 

— Shakespeare. 



EXAMPLES ILLUSTRATING THE NINE ARTISTIC 
ATTITUDES. 

WEIGHT ON LEFT FOOT BACK. WEIGHT ON BOTH FEET. 

(Force in Repose.) (Force in Hesitation.) 

i. Calm Thought and Re very. i. Familiarity. 

2. Defiance. 2. Indecision. 

3. Grief. 3. Respect. 

(old age or childhood.) 

WEIGHT ON RIGHT FOOT FORWARD. 

(Force in Activity.) 

1. Suspense. 

2. Animation. 

3. Exaltation. 



CALM THOUGHT. 

One summers day when all was still, 
I rested at my window sill, 
The busy town along the bay — 
In pearly mists and vapors lay. 

REVERY. 

Now as I mused on times a gone 
I heard a voice that cried 

FAMILIARITY. 

" Here's your nice fresh mackerel. Three for a quarter; one for 
yourself, one for your wife, one for your daughter 

INDECISION. 

" Surely," said I, " surely that is something at my window lattice. 
Let me see then what thereat is, and this mystery explore, 
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore — " 







DEFIANCE 

This attitude expresses force in antagonism. 



33 

GRIEF. 

"For O it was so hard to sit in darkness while the rest had light, 
to move to discord when the rest had song, to be so young and never 
to have lived. I bore as women bear until one day soul said to flesh — " 

DEFIANCE. 

"This I endure no more; and with the word up rose, tore clay 
apart, and what was blank before grew blanker still " 

SUSPENSE. 

" Open the curtain child, yes, it is night." 

ANIMATION. 

i; O stay, for I do love." 

EXHALTATION AND VEHEMENCE. 

u At this critical moment Messala, whirling his lash with a prac- 
tised hand, caught the Arabs of Ben-Hur a cut simultaneously shout- 
ing " 

RESPECT. 

" To all, to each, a fair good night, 
Pleasing dreams, and slumbers light." 



34 



VIIL EXERCISE. 



TIME. 



Time refers to the rapidity with which words and sentences are 
given. We have time spent on a sound, time spent on a pause, and 
iime spent on words and sentences. 

Quantity and pauses belong to the elements of time. A ehange 
of time will express a change of sentiment. 

The divisions of time are : — 

QUICK, VERY QUICK, MODERATE, SLOW, VERY SLOW. 



ELEMENTARY DRILL OF TIME. 

(Practice ten minutes daily for clear, musical tones.) 

Give the Seven Long Sounds in all the different kinds 
of Time. 



2. Give the Long and Short Sounds with Slow and Quick 

Time. 

3. Examples of Moderate Time. (Descriptive.) 

When she lifted the hand with the flower on it, 1 could think of 
nothing but — 

" In the beauty of the lilies, 
Christ was born across the sea." — Phelps. 

(Narrative.) 
[From " Talk to the Point."] 

Talk to the point, and stop when you reach it. The faculty 
which some possess of making one idea cover a quire of paper is 
■despicable. 

To fill a volume upon nothing is a credit to nobody, though 
•Chesterfield wrote a very clever poem upon "Nothing." There are 
men who get one idea into their heads, and but one, and they make 
the most of it. You can see it and almost feel it in their presence. 
On all occasions it is produced till it is worn as thin as charity. 



35 

They remind you of a twenty-four pounder discharging at a hum- 
ming-bird. You hear a tremendous noise, see a volume of smoke, 
but you look in vain for the effects. 

4. Slow Time, (pathos-tranquillity.) 

THE RAINY DAY. 

The day is cold and dark and dreary ; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary ; 
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, 
But at every gust the dead leaves fall, 
And the day is dark and dreary. 

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary, 
It rains, and the wind is never weary ; 
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past, 
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, 
And the days are dark and dreary. 

Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining ; 
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; 
Thy fate is the common fate of all, 
Into each life some rain must fall, 

Some days must be dark and dreary. — Longfellow. 



S. Very Slow Time, (deep-solemnity.) 
Hear the tolling of the bells — 
Iron bells ! 
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels ! 
In the silence of the night, 
How we shiver with affright 
At the melancholy menace of their tone ! 
For every sound that floats 
From the rust within their throats 

Is a groan. 
And the people — ah, the people — 
They that dwell up in the steeple, 

All alone, 
And who tolling, tolling, tolling, 

In that muffled monotone, 
Feel a glory in so rolling 

On the human heart a stone, — Poe. 



36 

Her suffering ended with the day : 

Yet lived she at its close, 
And breathed the long, long night away, 

In statue-like repose, 
But when the sun, in all his state, 

Illumed the eastern sky, 
vShe passed through glory's morning gate. 

And walked in Paradise. — Aldrich. 



6. Quick Time, (joy-gladness.) 

I come, I come ! ye have called me long ; 

I come o'er the mountains with light and song, 

Ye may trace my steps o'er the wak'ning earth, 

By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, 

By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, 

By the green leaves opening as I pass. — Mrs. Hemans. 



Under his spurning feet, the road 

Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed, 

And the landscape sped away behind 

Like an ocean flying before the wind, 

And the steed like a bark fed with furnace ire. 

Swept on, with his wild eye full of fire, 

But, lo ! he is nearing his heart's desire ; 

He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray ; 

With wSheridan only five miles away. — Read. 



Hear the sledges with the bells — 
Silver bells — 
What a world of merriment their melody foretells ! 
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, 

In the icy air of night ! 
While the stars that over sprinkle 
All the heavens seem to twinkle 

With a crystalline delight ; 
Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells 
From the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
Bells, bells, bells.— - Poe. 



37 

7- Very Quick Time. (Ecstatic joy-exciting appeals-confusion. ) 

Hurrah ! off again, dashing on as in ire, 

Till the long, flinty pathway is flashing with fire ! 

Ho ! a ditch ! Shall we pause? No ; the bold leap we dare, 

Like a swift-winged arrow we rush through the air ! 

Oh, not all the pleasures that poets may praise, 

Not the wildering waltz in the ball-rooms' blaze, 

Nor the chivalrous joust, nor the daring race ; 

Nor the swift regatta, nor merry chase, 

Nor the sail, high heaving waters o'er, 

Nor the rural dance on the moonlight shore, 

Can the wild thrilling joy exceed, 

Of a fearless leap on a fiery steed! — Grace Greenwood. 



It was rather the long leaping of lions in harness, but for the 
lumbering chariot, it seemed the four were flying. And above the 
noises of the race there was but one voice and that was " Ben-Hur's." 
In the old Aramaic, as the sheik himself, he called to the Arabs : — 

" On, Atair ! On, Rigel ! What, Antares, dost thou linger now? 
Good horse — Oho, Aldelbaran ! I hear them singing in the tents, sing- 
ing of the stars, of Atair, Antares, Rigel, Aldelbaran, and victory ! 
and the song will never end, Well done ! Home to-morrow, under the 
black tent — home. On — on — Ha, ha, ha, 'tis done ! Rest !" 

— L ew Walla ce . 



ELEMENTARY DRILL OF QUANTITY. 

QUANTITY OR PROLONGATION. 

Quantity is decidedly an important element of expression, as well 
as one of the most beautiful. It refers to Time spent in the utter- 
ance of a sound. Solemn subjects, prayer, sorrow, deep solemnity, 
etc., require it. Quantity is usually given to the long sounds, and 
goes hand in hand with the effusive form. All the varieties of ex- 
pression may be produced by a proper use of Quantity. 

All drawling must be avoided. Shakespeare warns us against 
u mouthing our words." Those who partly sing and partly read at 
the same time, do neither well. Caesar once asked a person who read 
with so much " sing-song " before him, " Do you read or sing? " 

Quantity in its fullness — " reminds us of the scent of a bank of 
violets, fragrant with the hidden sweetness of the spring." 



3§ 

EXAMPLES, 
i. " Roll on, thou dark and deep blue ocean, roll — " 

2. " Oh ! happiness, our being's end and aim — " 

3. Could we but climb where Moses stood, 

And view the landscape o'er, — 
Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood, 
Should fright us from the shore." 

4. " Blessed is the soul that listeneth to the voice of the Lord, 
and from his own lips heareth the words of consolation." 



HEAVEN. 

This world's not u all a fleeting show, 

For man's illusion given — " 
He that hath sooth'd a widow's woe, 
Or wip'd an orphan's tear, doth know 
There's something here of Heaven. 

And he that walks life's thorny way 

With feelings calm and even, 
Whose path is lit, from day to day, 
By virtue's bright and steady ray, 
Hath somethin gflelt of Heaven. 

He that the Christian's course hath run, 

And all his foes forgiven, 
Who measures out life's little span 
In love to God, and love to man, 

On earth hath tasted Heaven. 



SHORT QUANTITY. 

Short quantity and explosive form are used in expressing joy, 
mirth, light tones, laughter, etc., and is " Brisk as the April buds in 
primrose season." 

Busy, curious, thirsty fly, 
Drink with me, and drink as I ; 
Freely welcome to my cup, 
Could'st thou sip and sip it up? 
Make the most of life you may ; 
Life is short and wears away. 



39 

Both alike are mine and thine, 

Hastening quick to their decline ; 

Thine's a summer, mine no more. 

Though repeated to threescore ; 

Threescore summers, when they're gone, 

Wilt appear as short as one. — William Oldys. 



4° 



IX. EXERCISE. 



FORCE. 



Force is strength or power applied to words and sentences, so as 
to interpret their meaning in the most suitable manner. When we 
confine strength or power to different parts of a word or sound we call 
it stress. Force imparts brilliancy to our composition. It has been 
said that quantity and stress constitute the soul of delivery. Changes 
of force are indispensable to variety of expression. Force requires 
that the words and sentences which are the most important shall be 
made the most prominent ; the place and the amount must be deter- 
mined by the sense. The scale of force is relative not absolute. 
The divisions of force are : — 

GENTLE, MODERATE, LOUD, IMPASSIONED, SUSTAINED. 



ELEMENTARY DRILL OF FORCE. 
(Practice ten minutes daily for strength.) 

i. Give the Seven Long Sounds in ale the different kinds 
of Force. 



2. Examples of Gentle Force, (tenderness-pathos.) 

i . Peace in the clover-scented air, 

And stars within the dome, 
And underneath, in dim repose, 

A plain New England home. 
Within a murmur of low tones 

And sighs from hearts oppressed, 
Merging in prayer at last, that brings 

The balm of silent rest. 

2. Again, all is still, 

On the side of the hill 

Lies silent the camp in the shadow of night, 
The soldiers are sleeping ; 

The sentinel walks in the moon's silver light, 
His silent watch keeping. — Diekenga. 



4 1 

3- Abide with me ! fast falls the even-tide ; 

The darkness deepens ; Lord, with me abide ! 

When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 

Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me ! 

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless ; 

Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness : 

Where is Death's sting? Grave thy victory ! 

I triumph still, if Thou abide with me ! — H. F. Lyte. 

Moderate Force, (conversational-descriptive.) 

Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, 

Unnatural and full of contradictions, 
Yet others of our most romantic schemes 

Are something more than fictions. — Hood. 

TRIFLING CONVERSATION. 

Helen — What's that you read ? 

Modus — Latin, sweet cousin. 

Helen — 'Tis a naughty tongue 
I fear, and teaches men to lie. 

Modus — To lie ! 

Helen — You study it. You call your cousin sweet, 
And treat her as you would a crab. " As sour 
" 'Twould seem you think her, so you covet her ! 
" Why, how the monster stares and looks about ! " 
You construe Latin, and can't construe that ? 

Modus — I never studied women. 

Helen — No ; nor men. 
Else would you better know their ways : nor read 
In presence of a lady. — Knowles. 



4. Loud Force, (intensity-gladness.) 

1. Was ever a scene so splendid : 

I feel the breath of the Minister breeze ; 

Thank God that my exile's ended, 

Old scenes, old songs, old friends again 

The vale and the cot I was born in 
O Ireland, don't you hear me shout? 

I bid you the top o' the morning. — Locke. 



4 2 

2. I'm with you once-again, my friends ; 

No more my foot-steps roam ; 
Where it begins my journey ends, 

Amid the scenes of home. 
No other clime has skies so blue, 

Or streams so broad and clear ; 
And where are hearts so warm and true 

As those that meet me here? — Morris. 

(Animated conversation.) 

Romeo — Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy 

Be heaped like mine, and that thy skill be more. 
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath 
This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue 
Unfold the imagined happiness that both 
Receive in either by this dear encounter. 

Juliet. — Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, 
Brags of his substance, not of ornament ; 
They are but beggars that can count their worth ; 
But my true love is grown to such excess, 
I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth. — Shakespeare. 



Impassioned Force, (strong emotions.) 

i. Oh, I could play the woman with mine eyes, 

And braggart with my tongue ! But, gentle Heaven, 
Cut short all intermission ; front to front 
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself ; 
Within my sword's length set him ; if he 'scape, 
Heaven forgive him too ! — Macbeth. 

2. We; . y tongue thunder — 

I woiud cry, Revenge! Revenge! — ^Croly. 

3. Blow wind ! come wrack ! 

At least we'll die with harness on our back ! — Macbeth, 

4. But yet I'll make assurance doubly sure, 
And take a bond of fate : thou shalt not live : 
That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, 
And sleep in spite of thunder. — Macbeth. 



1 



43 

6. Sustained Force. (calling-commanding.) 

i. Rejoice, you men of Angier's, ring your bells : 

King John, your king and England's doth approach, 
Open your gates and give the victors way. — Shakespeare. 

2. COMMANDING. 

Half a league, half a league, 

Half a league onward, 

All in the valley of death 

Rode the six hundred. 

" Forward, the Light Brigade! 

Charge for the guns I" he said. 

Into the valley of death, 

Rode the six hundred. — Tennyson. 



44 



X. EXERCISE. 



PITCH. 



Pitch is an important requisite to the public speaker, it refers to 
the raising or lowering of the voice. 

We change our pitch when we change our sentiment, thus de- 
pression of spirit will naturally cause a relaxation of the vocal cords 
and the -pitch will be low, while mirth and gayety of spirit will 
lengthen the vocal cords and the pitch will be high. 

The scale of pitch is relative, not absolute. 

The divisions of pitch are : — 

HIGH, VERY HIGH, MIDDLE, LOW, VERY LOW. 



ELEMENTARY DRILL OF PITCH. 
(Practice ten minutes daily for variety and range of tones.) 

i. Give the Seven Long-Sounds with all the different 
kinds of Pitch. 



2. Cough out the Seven Short Sounds in Middle and Low 
Pitch. 



3. Pronounce the following words in High and Low Pitch. 



bidding 


singing 


sailing 


going 




guiding 




expecting 


hardness 


darkness 


giddiness 


smoothness 


wilderness 


careless 


frosts 


posts 


boasts 


fists 




ghosts 




acts 


folds 


scolds 


builds 


scalds 




childs' 




enfolds 


populous 


Tuesday 


dubious 


duty 




illume 




tube 


don't you 


subtle 


stoics 


alacrity 




laconic 




drama 


musically 


particularly statistically 


theoretically 


homiletically 



45 
4« Middle Pitch. (descriptive.) 

i . The splendor falls on castle-walls, 
And snow'y summits old in story : 
The long light shakes across the lakes, 
And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 
Blow, bugle-blow-set the wild echoes flying ; 

Blow, bugle-answer, echoes, dying-dying-dying. 

— Tennyson. 

2. A thousand thousand laurel boughs are waving wide and far, 
To shed out their triumphal gleams around his rolling car ; 
A thousand haunts of olden gods have given their wealth of 

flowers, 
To scatter o'er his path of fame bright hues in gem-like showers. 

— Coronation of Tasso. 



Low Pitch. (tenderness.) 

One sweetly solemn thought 

Comes to me o'er and o'er 
I'm nearer my home to-day 

Than I ever have been before. 

Nearer the bound of life, 

Where we lay our burdens down ; 

Nearer leaving the cross ; 
Nearer gaining the crown. 

Father perfect my trust, 

Let my spirit feel in death 
That her feet are firmly set 

On the Rock of a living faith. — Phebe Cary. 



6. Very Low Pitch. (solemnity.) 

OH, BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. 

i . Oh, breathe not his name ! Let it sleep in the shade, 
Where cold and unhonor'd his relics are laid ; 
Sad, silent, and dark be the tears that we shed, 
As the night-dew that falls on the grave o'er his head. 



But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, 
vShall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ; 
And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, 
Shall long keep his memory green in our souls. 

— Thomas Moore. 



High Pitch. (lively-animated-earnest.) 

i . Gayly and gayly rang the gay music, 

The blithe merry music of harp and of horn, 
The mad merry music that set us a-dancing 

'Till over the midnight came stealing the morn. 

Down the great hall went waving the banners 
Waving and waving their red, white and blue, 

As the sweet summer wind came blowing and blowing 
From the city's great garden asleep in the dew, 

Under the flags, as they floated and floated, 

Under the arches and arches of flowers 
We two and we two floated and floated 

Into the mystical midnight hours. — Nora Perry. 

(Animated.) 



2. When you see a man in woe, 
Walk right up and say " Hello ! " 
Say " Hello " and u How d' you do? " 
" How's the world a-using you? " 
Slap the fellow on his back, 
Bring your hand down with a whack. 
Walk right up, and don't go slow, 
Smile and shake and say " Hello ! " 

Is he clothed in rags? Oh, pshaw ! 

Walk right up and say " Hello ! " 

Rags is but a common roll, 

Just for wrapping up a soul. 

And a soul is worth a true 

Hale and hearty " How d' you do? " 

Don't wait for the crowd to go, 

But walk right up and say " Hello !" — JFoi 



47 
S. Very High Pitch. ( gay ety-in tensity.) 

i . Swinging through the forests. 

Rattling over ridges 
Shooting under arches. 

Rumbling over bridges ; 
Whizzing" through the mountains 

Buzzing o'er the vale. 
Bless me ! this is pleasant. 

Riding on the rail ! — Saxe. 

(Ecstatic joy.) 

2. •• It snows," cries the school boy ; "hurrah ! " and his shout 
Is ringing through parlor and hall ; 
While swift as the wing of a swallow he's out, 

And his playmates have answered his call. 
It makes the heart leap but to witness their joy ; 

Proud wealth has no pleasure, I trow, 
Like the rapture that throbs in the pulse of the boy 
As he gathers his treasures of snow. — Mrs. Hale, 



4 8 



XI. EXERCISE. 



STRESS. 

Stress produces a very great effect, if properly understood, and 
executed. It requires a cultivated voice, and good judgment to use it 
in the most appropriate places ; it belongs entirely to force, and may 
be called force or strength as applied to different parts of a word 
or sound. The various kinds of stress are : — 

i. Radical 

2. Final 

3. Median 

4. Thorough 

5. Compound 

6. Intermittant 



ELEMENTARY DRILL OF STRESS. 
(Practice daily for flexibility.) 

1. Give the Seven Long Sounds with the different kinds 
of Stress. 







2. Examples of Median Stress. <^> (loudest in the middle.) 

( Pathetic-beautiful . ) 

1. Oh skies be calm, O winds blow free, 
Blow all my ships safe home to me, 
But if Thou send'st some a-wrack 
To never more come sailing back 
Send any, all that skim the sea, 
But bring my love ship home to me. — Wilcox. 

2. My soul to-day is far away, 
Sailing the Vesuvian Bay ; 
My winged boat, a bird afloat, 
Swims round the purple peaks remote. — Read. 







REPULSION 

This attitude expresses general aversion. 



49 

(Swelling tones.) 

3. O ! Hark ! O hear ! how thin and clear, 
And thinner, clearer further going. 



3. Intermittant Stress. *^*^~->^^ (tremulous-emotional.) 

1. Over yonder Missis' sleeping — 
No one tends her grave like me ; 
Mebbe she would miss the flowers, 
She used to love in Tennessee. — Beers. 

(Feebleness-age. ) 
2. Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, 

Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, 
Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span ; 

Oh ! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store. 

Thomas Moss. 



4. Thorough Stress. | | (force throughout.) 

(Triumph-commanding. ) 
1 . Hurrah ! hurrah for Sheridan ! 

Hurrah ! hurrah for horse and man ! 

And when their statues are placed on high, 

Under the dome of the Union sky, — 

The American soldiers' Temple of Fame, 

There with the glorious General's name 

Be it said in letters both bold and bright : 

" Here is the steed that saved the day 

By carrying Sheridan into the fight, — 

From Winchester, — twenty miles away ! " — Read, 

(Courage.) 
2. Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly 
From its firm base as soon as I. — Scott. 



Radical Stress. |^n==- (Force on first part of a word.) 
(Positiveness.) 
1. Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts ! 
Dash him to pieces ! 



5o 

Now we're off — like the winds to the plains whence they came ; 
And the rapture of motion is thrilling my frame ; 
On, on speeds my courser, scarce printing the sod, 
Scarce crushing a daisy to mark where he trod ! 

— Grace Greenwood. 



6. Compound Stress. [><] (Force applied to the first and last part 
of the word or sound.) 

(Sarcasm— contempt-intensity, ) 

i. I held some slack allegiance till this hour, 

But now my sword's my own — Croly. 

2. Thy threats, thy mercies, I defy ! 
And give thee in the teeth the lie ! 



7. Final Stress. — ==ZCH| (Force given to the last part of the 
word.) 

(Defiance, determination.) 
1. I'll have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak ; 
I'll have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. 

1. What ! threat you me with telling of the king? 

3. Can parliament be so dead to its dignity and duty as to give 
their support to measures thus obtruded and forced upon them? 
Measures, my lords, which have reduced this late flourishing em- 
pire to scorn and contempt ! 



XIL EXERCISE. 



EXAMPLES OF PURE AND IMPURE QUALITIES. 

(Practice qualities for kind of voice.) 

PURE QUALITIES. IMPURE QUALITIES. 

i. Pure i. Aspirate 

2. Oratund 2. Guttural 

3. Oral 3. Semi-Aspirate 

4. Falsetto 4. Nasal 



PURE QUALITY. 

Pure tone is a clear, musical tone with the resonance in the back 
part of the mouth. 

(Natural-conversational— pathos.) 

It was a stately convent with its old and lofty walls, 
And gardens with their broad green walks, where soft the foot- 
steps fall, 
And o'er its antique dial stones, the creeping shadows passed, 
And all around the noonday sun a drowsy radiance cast, 
No sound of busy life was heard, save from the cloister dim, 
The tinkling of the silver bell, or the sisters' holy hymn. 

— H. G. Bell. 

(Reflective.) 

2. Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy, 

Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy ! 

Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, 

And bring back the features that joy used to wear. 

Long, long be my heart with such memories fill'd ! 

Like the vase in which roses have once been distill'd ; 

You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will, 

But the scent of the roses will hang round it still. — Moore. 



(Intensified conversation.) 

3. Hamlet — Now, mother; what's the matter? 

Queen — Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended. 

Hamlet — Mother you have my father much offended. 

Queen — Come, come ; you answer with an idle tongue. 

Hamlet — Go, go ; you question with a wicked tongue. 

Queen — Why, how now Hamlet? 

Hamlet — What's the matter now? 

Queen — Have you forgot me? 

Hamlet — No, by the rood, not so : You are the queen, your hus- 
band's brother's wife. 

Queen — Nay, then I'll send those to you that can speak. 

Hamlet — Come, come, and sit you down ; you shall not budge ; 
You go not, till I set you up a glass where you may see the in- 
most part of you. — Shakespeare. 



2. Oratund. (Pure tone deepened and enlarged, with the vibration 
or resonance in the chest.) 

( Sublimity-reverence-grandeur. ) 

1 . Oh ! Thou eternal One, whose presence bright 

All space doth occupy, all motion guide ; 
Unchanged through Time's all-devasting flight — 

Thou only God ; there is no God beside — 
Being above all beings ; Mighty One ; 

Whom none can comprehend and none explore, 
Who fill'st existence with Thyself alone, 

Embracing all — supporting — ruling o'er, 
Being whom we call God, and know no more. 

Oh thoughts ineffable ! Oh visions blest ! 

Though worthless our conception all of Thee, 
Yet shall Thy shadowed image fill our breast, 

And waft its homage to Thy Deity. 
God ! thus alone my lonely thoughts can soar; 

Thus seek Thy presence — Being, wise, and good ; 
Midst Thy vast works admire, obey, adore ; 

And, when the tongue is eloquent no more, 
The soul shall speak in tears of gratitude. — Derzhavin. 



53 

2. He who aims high must dread an easy home and popular 
manners. Heaven sometimes hedges a rare character about with ugli- 
ness and odium, as the burr that protects the fruit. 

If there is any great and good thing in store for you, it will not 
come at the first or the second call, nor in the shape of fashion, ease, 
and city drawing-rooms. Popularity is for dolls. Steep and craggy, 
said Porphyry, is the path of the gods. Open your Marcus Antoni- 
nus. In the opinion of the ancients, he was the great man who 
scorned to shine, and who contested the frowns of fortune. — Emerson. 



3. Oral. (Resonance in the front part of the mouth.) 
(Child-voice-feebleness-sickness.) 

1. " I'm going back down to grandpa's 

I won't come back no more, 
To hear the remarks about my feet 

A muddying up the floor, 
They's too much said about my clothes, 

The scoldin's never done, 
I'm going back down to grandpa's 

Where a boy kin have some fun." 

(Feebleness.) 

2. " No ! no ! I want — nothing, The angels are beckoning me- 
there over the river." 

(Exhaustion.) 

3. Let me lie down 
Just here in the shade of this cannon-torn tree, 
Here, low on the trampled grass, where I may see 
The surge of the combat, and where I may hear 
The glad cry of victory, cheer upon cheer : 

Let me lie down. — Miller. 



4. Falsetto. (A high tone, above the natural key, resonance in 
upper part of mouth.) 

(Imitation.) 

1. "Finally a simple-minded fish contrives to get itself fastened 
on the hook of a timid woman who gives vent to her tongue — 'Oh, 



54 

something's got my hook ! ' i Pull up ! pull up ! ' shout three or four 
voices — and the poles are dropped and the girls all rush to the rescue." 

2. Mr. Noodles — Mr. Noodles! I say, Mr. Noodles! Now, if 
you were half awake, and had a disposition to get along in the world, 
and be anything or anybody, or do half what you promised to do when 
you married me, I should never be under the painful necessity of re- 
minding you of what you are. Mr. Noodles ! I had plenty of eligible 
offers — but you — you Mr. Noodles made so many lofty promises that 
I just threw myself away — and here I've been years and years, toiling 
and digging, and working unceasingly, to help make something or 
somebody out of you — Mr. Noodles — and this is my reward. — Hall. 



IMPURE QUALITIES. 

5. Guttural. (Discordant tone, the resonance in the lower part of 
the throat.) 

(Hate-defiance-scorn. ) 

i . " Ho, base Jew ; work you in such guise ! 
Hello, my men ! Close in ; charge home ! 
Strike down this dog of an assassin ! " 

2. And if thou said'st I am not peer 
To any lord in Scotland here, 
Lowland or highland, far or near, 
Lord Angus, thou hast lied. — Scott. 

3. The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear, 

Shall never sag with doubt, nor shake with fear. 

— Macbeth. 

4. If thou speak'st false, 

Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive. — Macbeth. 



6. Aspira tk. (Resonance variable.) 

(Secrecy-stillness-suppressed fear. ) 
1 . No other sound or stir of life was there 
Except my steps in solitary clamber 
From flight to flight, from stair to stair, 
From chamber into chamber. 



O'er all there hung the shadow of a fear, 
A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, 

And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, 
The place is haunted ! — Hood. 

2. I'll go no more ; 

I am afraid to think what I have done ; — 
Look on't again, I dare not ! — Macbeth. 

Is this a dagger which I see before me, 

The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee, 

I have thee not : and yet I see thee still ! 

Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible 

To feeling, as to sight ? or art thou but 

A dagger of the mind, a false creation 

Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? 

I see thee yet, in form as palpable 

As this which now I draw. — Macbeth. 



Semi- Aspirate. (Intensifies the expression, resonance in the 
lower part of throat.) 

(Awe-amazement-or dread.) 

i. Still it cried, u Sleep no more" to all the house, 

" Glamis hath murdered sleep ; and therefore Cawdor 
Shall sleep no ?nore — Macbeth shall sleep no more!" 

— Shakespeare. 

2. I am thy father's spirit, — 

Doomed for a certain time to walk the night ; 
And, for the day, confined to fast in fires, 
Till the foul crimes, done in my days of Nature, 
Are burned and purged away. — Shakespeare. 



8. Nasal. (Resonance in the cavity of the nose.) 
(Mimicry-burlesque. ) 

i. " Ethan, who's been a-painting on that barn? Ethan Ripley, 
what have you been doing? " 



56 

" Nawthin,' a man came along an' he wanted to paint that sign 

on there an' I let him — it's my barn anyhow an' I guess I can do what 

I've a mind to with my own barn — " 

" Ethan Ripley — I declare I don't see what possessed you — " 
" Wal' he paid me twenty-five dollars for it — or that is just the 

same thing — he gave me twenty-five bottles of the best family bitters 

in the market." 

2. " The birds can fly, 
An' why can't 1 ? 
Must we give in," 
Says he, with a grin, 
" That the bluebird an' phoebe 
Are smarter'n we be ?" 



ONOMATOPOETIC. 

i. (The drum.) 

With a rap, and a tap, and a rolling beat, 

And a sound on the ground of the tramp of feet, 

Keeping step they come, 

With the sound of the drum, 

With the rapping and the tapping of a drum, of a drum, drum, drum. 

To the beating of a drum, drum, drum, drum. — Diekenga. 

2. (Whistles.) 

(Vibration upper and back part of mouth.) 

Six-five A. M. there's a local comes, 
Makes up at Bristol, running east ; 
An' the way her whistle sings and hums — 
Is a living caution to man an' beast. 

Every one knows who Jack White calls — 

Little Lou Woodbury down by the Falls ; 

Summer or winter, always the same, 

She hears her lover calling her name — 

" Lou — ie — Lou — iee — Lou — iee ! " — Hurdette. 



57 
3 . (Bells.) 

4i Not faith alone, but works as well, 
Must test the soul," said a soft bell. 
Come here, and cast aside your load, 
And work your way along the road, 
With faith in God, and faith in man, 
And hope in Christ, where hope began — 

" Do well," do well, do well — do well — 
Rang out a clear toned bell. — Bungay. 

4. (Bird tones.) 

Merrily swinging o'er brier and weed, 

Near to the nest of his little dame, 
Over the mountain side or mead, 

Robert of Lincoln is telling his name, — 

Whirr— Whirr— Whirr. 
Bobolink — bobolink — spink — spank — spink. 

Chee — chee — chee. 
Snug and safe in this nest of ours, 
Hidden among the summer flowers. 

Chee — Chee — Chee . 

Whirr — whirr — whirr. 

5. (Echo.) 

Though rudely blows the wintry blast, 
And sifting snows fall white and fast, 
Mark Haley drives along the street, 
Perched high upon his wagon-seat ; 
His somber face the storm defies, 
And thus from morn till eve he cries, 

" Charco' ! charco' ! " 
While echo faint and far replies, 

"Hark, O! hark, O! " 
" Charco' ! " — u Hark, O ! " — Such cheery sounds 
Attend him on his daily rounds. — y. T. Trowbridge 



5* 



XIIL EXERCISE. 



EXAMPLES INTRODUCING TWENTY-SIX POSITIONS 
OF THE ARM. 



Declaration. 

I. " The king is present." 

Affirmation. 

II. "I tell you though all the world declare it, I will not believe it." 

Negation. 

III. " You charge me that I have blown this coal, I do deny it." 

Maintaining. 

IV. u I will uphold the truth of his statement." 

Contempt. 

V. "Oh! it is not worth a fig." 

Meditation. 

VI. "And I thought on all the subjects which the generous Duke 

had named." 

Acquiring. 

VII. " When suddenly it flashed across my mind, They had gone." 

Threatening. 

VIII. " Thou shalt not live, That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies'* 

Animation. 

IX. " Had 'I three ears I'd hear thee." 

Determination. 

X. " I'll have my bond, I will not hear thee speak." 

Holding. 

XI. " Here I hold a pilot's thumb 

Wrecked as homeward he did come." 

Indicating. 

XII. " Like yon maiden by the cypress which the vines are 

weeping o'er." 



59 

Revealing. 

XIII. " But still this purple pansy brings 

Thoughts of the sweetest, saddest things." 

Supplicating. 

XIV. " Oh, do not turn me away, I implore." 

Accusation. 

XV. " Your heart is filled with arrogance, spleen and pride." 

Humility. 

XVI. "King Robert crossed both hands upon his breast and 

quickly answered — ' Thou knowest best ; my sins as 
scarlet are.' " 

Benediction. 

XVII. " May the blessings of Heaven rest upon them." 

Mental Convulsion. 

XVIII. "I had most need of blessing, 

But amen stuck in iriy throat." 

Caressing. 

XIX. ' ; Then the good steed's rein she took and his neck did kiss 

and stroke." 

Attacking. 

XX. 4i A vaunt, little rascal, away with you — fly." 

Glorification. 

XXI. " Make a joyful noise unto the Lord all the earth." 

Rejection. 

XXII. " Fling away ambition, by that sin fell the angels." 

Acceptance. 

XXIII. " Yes, I will accept the gift." 

Calm Repose. 

XXIV. " Whene'er you speak remember every cause 

Stands not on eloquence but stands on laws." 

Exultation. 

XXV. " Go ring the bells and fire the guns, 

And fling the starry banner out." 

Good Night. 

XXVI. " Good night ! good night ! — as sweet repose and rest 

Come to thy heart, as that within my breast ! " 



6o 



XIV. EXERCISE. 



ELEMENTARY GESTURE DRILL. 

(Practice daily for freedom of movement.) 

A* Hands crossed on chest — head bowed. 

B* Right hand in salutation — left on chest — head raised. 

C. Left palm laid on right. 

D* Hands ascending — outward. 

E* Hands descending — inward. 

F« Hands supine ascending. 

G* Hands prone descending. 

H> Ascending curves. 

L Descending curves. 

J. Quick writing. 

K* Rotary movement — lateral. 

L. Clap hands three times over head. 

M. Rolling front — descending. 

N* Ascending nodes. 

O. Descending nodes. 

P. Shaking hands three times. 

Q 4 Arms swing back. 

R 4 Arms swing front. 

S. Kneel on left knee, right hand vertical. 

T. Springing backward hands clasped at left shoulder. 

U. Flourishing bow. 

V. Fingers clasped at chest — elbows raised. 

W. Convulsive fingers. 

X. Quick writing — diagonally. 

Y. Folded arms. 

Z. Bow. (Martha Washington.) 



6i 

DESCRIPTIVE GESTURE DRILL. 

(Strength at the centre gives freedom at the surface. — Delsarte.) 



i. Supine Hand. 

Give the Seven Long Sounds with shades of expression suit- 
able to illustrate the Supine Hand. 

Supine Hand — the hand well opened, the two middle fingers 
close together. The palm or face of the hand is very expressive — 
used in Affirmation, General Statements. It Welcomes, 
Accepts, and is Impulsive, Frank, Generous in nature. 

2. Prone Hand. 

Give the Seven Long Sounds with suitable expression, using 
the Prone Hand to illustrate. 

Prone Hand — the face of the hand turned down, used in Sad- 
ness, Solemnity, it Conceals, Covers, Buries, and is Repressive 
in nature. 

3. Vertical Hand. 

Give the Seven Short Sounds using the Hand Vertical. 

Vertical Hand — the face of the hand is perpendicular, fingers 
pointing upward, expresses Aversion, Fear, Calling Attention, 
and is Repelling in nature. 

4. Inward Hand. 

Give the Double Sounds using the Lstward Hand. 
Inward Hand — the hand is held on edge, thumb erect, us*ed in 
Sacredness, Appeal to Heaven, also in Demonstrative gesture. 

5. Index Finger. 

Give the Linguals (at same time using the Index Finger.) 
Index Finger — the first finger straight, hand closed easily, used 
in Locating, Defining, Indicating in nature. 

6. Hands Enclosed. 

Give Back Scale of Vowels with Hands Enclosed. 

Hands Enclosed — Right hand clinched and laid in palm of left 
hand, used in Revery, Deep Thought, (tapping quickly) denotes 
Impatience. 



62 

7- Wringing Hands. 
Give the Four Double Sounds at the same time Wringing 
the Hands. 

Wringing Hands — used in Distress, Pain, etc. 

8. Hands Crossed. 

Give Front Scale of Vowels using Hands Crossed. 
Hands Crossed — the left hand crossed over right on the chest, 
elbows raised, Veneration, Humility of Heart. 

9. Hands Applied. 

Give the Four Double Sounds with the Hands Applied. 
Hands Applied — the palms pressed together, fingers touching, 
Devotion, Adoration. 

10. Clenched Hands. 

Give the Seven Short Sounds using the Clenched Hand. 
Clenched Hand — Determination, Rage, Anger. 

11. Fingers Clasped. 

Give the Eight Sub Vocals with the Fingers Clasped. 

Clasped Fingers — indicate Strong Emotion, Pleading or 
Supplicating. 

12. Clasped Hands. 

Give the Seven Long Sounds with expression (the Hands 
Clasped.) 

Clasped Hands — the palm of the right hand laid in palm of 
left, used in Humility, Intense Feeling, Resignation. 



GOLDEN RULES. 

1 . Do not personate description, and in personation be careful 
only to suggest the passion. 

2. Do not use Hand on Heart to show the feelings of others, 
only used with reference to your own feelings. 

3. Hush or Hark may be given with Vertical Hand or Index 
Finger. 

4. A gesture without meaning is a grimace in Art. 



<>3 



XV. EXERCISE. 



PANTOMIMES. 



I. You have just finished turning the leaves of an illustrated 

copy of " Dante" and are standing in — 
Meditation. 

II. Your attention is arrested by the sounds without, and you 

pause for a moment — 

Listening. 

III. Unable to recognize these sounds you go to your study window 

and stand — 

Looking. 

IV. Just then a familiar form enters and you show — 

Surprise. 

V. Recognizing, as you suppose, a friend you make a — 

Formal Salutation. 

VI. After which you extend a hearty — 

Welcome. 

VII. Receiving no response other than an effort to speak, you pause 

in — 

Expectation. 

VIII. Still receiving no response you turn away in — 

Rejection. 

IX. Followed by — 

Indignant Command — " Go ! " 

X. The object still remains and you show extreme — 

Arrogance. 



64 

XI. You now display decided feelings of — 
■ Anger. 

XII. Further emboldened, you stand in the attitude of — 

Defiance. 

XIII. The form changes into something replusive, causing to creep 

over you feelings of — 

Fear. 

XIV. Further transformation develops the object into loathsomeness 

from which you turn away in — 

Horror. 

XV. While thus your eyes are turned away another transformation 

has taken place, The object has changed into one of An- 
gelic beauty which you hail with — 
Spiritual Joy. 

XVI. It is vanishing and you plead with it to stay, assuming the 

attitude of — 

Appeal. 

XVII. It has vanished and you are left in great — 

Humility. 

XVIII. You invoke forgiveness for your treatment of an Angel un- 

awares, in the attitude of humble — 
Prayer. 

XIX. Your conscience is relieved, your prayer is answered and you 

repose in — 

Faith. 

XX. And now ladies and gentlemen, we trust that you are pleased 

with our exercises, and promising you faithful work in our 
future efforts to entertain our friends and the public, we 
bid you — 

Farewell. 

Arranged and presented by 

Prof. R. I. Fulton. 







REFLECTION 
This attitude expresses force in repose. 



ART 



The birthplace of Art is in the Soul. 



I wish to acknowledge my indebtedness to Gen. Lew Wallace and 
Harper & Brothers for so kindly permitting me to publish "The Chariot 
Race" from " Ben-Hur," and " Sergius to the Lion" from the "The 
Prince of India " ; and to Houghton, Mifflin & Co. for " Christine Roche- 
fort " ; to G. P. Putnam's Sons for "Life for Life" from "A Son of 
Issachar," and " The Dilemma " from "Yale Yarns," and "The Stranded 
Ship " ; to Little, Brown & Co., and Jeremiah Curtin for " Quo Vadis " ; 
to Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. for "Going to the Circus" from "The 
Wreck of the Circus," and "Laddie"; to J. L. Harbour for "The 
Mourning Veil," " William Henry," "Putting the Baby to Sleep," "A 
Bed-Time Classic " and " Papa and the Boy " ; to J. P. Lippincott Com- 
pany for "The Daughter of the Regiment"; to Lee & Shepard for 
" The Auctioneer's Gift," " Then Ag'in," and " Sunday Thieves " ; to 
"Four O'Clock" for "A Matrimonial Venture"; to the Shortstory 
Publishing Company for " My Detective Instinct " and " Meeting of 
Royalty " ; to the Strand Magazine for "The Little Tin Trumpet." 

Sara Lord Bailey. 

Lawrence, Mass. 



LADDIE. 



BY AUTHOR OF " MISS TOOSEY'S MISSION. 



Arranged by Sara Lord Bailey. 



(Printed by permission of Thomas Y. Crowell & Co., Publishers.) 

Dr. John Carter was a London physician who, by untiring efforts, 
had risen in his profession, until he enjoyed a most enviable practice and 
reputation. He was of humble origin, which fact he neither concealed 
nor obtruded upon people's attention, but to those who had a right to be 
interested he would say, " My family were poor working people in 
Somersetshire, and I don't even know if I had a grandfather. I owe 
everything to the good, old doctor who took me by the hand and whose 
talent made the ladder by which I have climbed." 

Now, so highly was Dr. Carter respected that when he asked Sir 
John Meredith for the hand of his daughter Violet, the baronet unhesitat- 
ingly gave his consent. 

The doctor sat in his consulting room one evening with a recent 
"Medical Review" in his hand — he had been engaged to Violet Meredith 
two days — and to-night, instead of reading, he was dreaming rosy day 
dreams, as was fit and proper after two days' wandering in fairy land. 
His reverie was interrupted by his man servant. 

" Please, sir, there's someone wishes to see you ; I told her as it was 
too late, but she wouldn't be put off no how, sir." 

" What sort of a person is she ? " 

" She appears to be from the country, sir — rather a countryfied, 
homely old body, sir." 

" Well, show her in." 

" Countryfied, homely old body." Somehow, the description 
brought back to Dr. Carter's mind his mother, whom he had not seen 
for fifteen years. He smiled to himself at the thought, and even as he 
smiled, the door was pushed open and before him he saw (with a back- 
ground of the gas-lit hall and the respectful servant), his mother. 



70 

" Mother ! why mother ! " He kissed her furrowed old cheeks, wet 
with tears of unutterable joy, and again said, " Mother ! why mother I " 

She was clinging meanwhile to his arm, sobbing out, " Laddie, my 
boy, Laddie " — with her eyes too dim with tears to see his face clearly or 
to notice how tall and grand and handsome her boy was grown, and what 
a gentleman ! " I must have a good look at you, Laddie, my boy ! " 

And then her good angel must have spread his soft wing between the 
mother and son to keep her from seeing the look that was marring that 
son's face. All the pleasure was gone and embarrassment and disquiet 
lurked in the lines of his face. 

" How did you come, mother? " 

" By the train, dear, and it did terrify me more nor a bit at first, I'll 
not go for to deny, but, bless you, I soon got over it, and trains is handy 
sort of things when you get used to 'em, Laddie." 

"Why didn't you write and say you were coming? " 

" Well, well, I thought as I'd give you a surprise, and I know as 
you'd be worrying about the journey and thinking as I'd not be able to 
manage ; but I'm not such a helpless old body after all, Laddie." 

" And when must you go back, mother? " 

" Go back, Laddie? Not till you get tired of me, Laddie." 

John Carter busied himself with making the fire burn into a blaze, 
while his mother rambled on describing her journey. He paid little heed 
to what she said, for his head was busy trying to form some plan for get- 
ting himself out of his difficult position. He did not want to hurt, nor to 
be unkind to her in any way ; but it was altogether out of the question 
having her there to live with him. It would ruin all his prospects in life, 
his position in his profession, and in society ; as to his engagement, he 
did not venture even to allow himself to think of Violet. 

" Mother, I wish you had written to tell me you were coming." 

" I knew as you'd be pleased to see me, Laddie, come when I might 
or how I might." 

How could he make her understand and see the gulf that lay between 
them, — her life and his ? He talked on quickly and nervously, telling her, 
how they would go to-morrow and find a snug cottage not far from 
London, with everything pretty and comfortable that heart could wish for, 
and how he would come to see her often, very often, perhaps once a 
week. 

" You would like it, wouldn't you, mother? " 

" I'm aweary, Laddie, too tired like for new plans, and may be, 
dearie, too old." 






7i 

" You must go to bed now, mother. Come, think no more of it 
to-night ; everything will look brighter to-morrow. I'll show you your 
bedroom." 

He left her with a kiss. She stood for some moments quite still, 
looking at herself in the long mirror. " And so, Laddie is ashamed of 
his old mother, and it ain't no wonder." 

Before Dr. Carter slept that night he came to a different conclusion. 
" Come what may, I will, I'll keep my mother with me, let people say or 
think what they will ; yes, even if it cost me Violet herself, as most likely 
it will. I'll keep my mother here with me." 

But at daybreak his mother stood shivering in the cold November 
morning outside his door. 

" I'll never be a shame to my boy, my Laddie ; God bless him." 

When Dr. Carter found his mother gone, he said to himself with a 
sore heart, " She has gone back to Sunny Brook. She saw what a 
miserable, base-hearted cur of a son she had, who grudged a welcome 
and a shelter to her who would have given her right hand to keep my 
little finger from aching. God forgive me for wounding the brave old 
heart. I will go and bring her back — she will be ready to forgive me 
before I speak." 

But she was not at Sunny Brook. He searched diligently all day, 
but with no success, and, tired and dispirited, he put the matter into the 
hands of the police, who undertook with great confidence to find her 
before another day had passed. 

It was with a haggard, anxious face that he went to see Violet. " I 
have come to tell you about my mother. I have deceived you shame- 
fully." And then he told her of his mother, describing her as plainly 
and carefully as he could, trying to set aside everything fanciful or 
picturesque, and yet do justice to the kind, simple, old heart, trying to 
make Violet see the difference between the old country woman and 
herself. And then he told her how she had come to end her days under 
his roof. 

" I could not ask you to live with her and so I have come to offer 
to release you from our engagement. 

" It is too late to think of that for you asked me to be your wife 
a week ago, and I will not let you off. And, then, I have no mother 
of my own ; and it will be so nice to have one, for she will like me for 
your sake, won't she? And what does it matter what she is like? She is 
your mother and that is enough for me." 

" Hate me then, Violet, for I was ashamed of her ; I was base and 



72 

cowardly and untrue, and I wanted to get her out of the way so that no 
one should know, not even you, and I hurt and wounded her who would 
have done anything for her ' Laddie,' as she call me, and she went away 
disappointed and I can't find her." 

" We will find her, never fear, your mother and mine, Laddie." 

Eighteen months passed. The search for the mother was altogther 
fruitless. 

The wedding had been delayed from time to time, for Violet had 
said, " We will find her first, we must find her, Laddie, and then we will 
talk of the wedding." 

They had not given up the hope of finding her, or their efforts to do 
so, but it no longer seemed a reason for postponing the marriage and the 
wedding day had been set. 

One morning, a few days before the wedding, Dr: Carter was making 
his rounds through a great London hospital. He had been bending over 
an interesting case in the accident ward, and rising to pass on found that 
he had dropped from his coat some flowers which Violet had given him. 
They had fallen by some quick movement onto the next bed. An old 
woman's arms were stretched outside the bed clothes, and one of the 
hard worked hands had closed involuntarily upon the flowers. 

" Here they are, sir," said the nurse. " Leave go the flowers, 
there's a good woman, the gentleman wants them. She's not been 
conscious, sir, since they brought her in ; we don't know her name. I 
fancy she's Scotch for I heard her say 'Laddie ' several times." 

The words seemed to catch the unconscious ear, for the woman 
turned her head and said, " Laddie," " Laddie." 

" Mother, mother, is it you? Mother speak to me ! " 

"There is some mistake," said the nurse, " this is quite a poor old 
woman." 

" Yes, and she is my mother ! I will make arrangements at once 
for her removal to my house, if she can bear it." 

But it wanted little examination to tell that the old woman was past 
moving. 

Love is stronger than death ; many waters cannot drown it. Yes, 
but it cannot turn back those cold waters of death, when the soul has 
once entered them. And so Dr. Carter found that with all his love and 
with all his skill he could only smooth, and that but a very little, the 
steep, stony road down to Jordan. 

He sent for Violet. She came at once, and kneeling down with 



- 73 

her sweet face close to the old mother's said, " Mother, I am Laddie's 
sweetheart." 

"Laddie's sweetheart — he's been a good son to his old mother, and 
you'll make him a good wife, won't you, dear? God bless Laddie and 
his sweetheart." 

Then the weary limbs relaxed into the utter repose and stillness of 
rest after labor, for the night had come when no man can work — the holy 
starlit night of death, with the silver streaks of the great dawn of the 
Resurrection shining in the east. 

They buried her in the Sunny Brook church yard, and the country 
folks talked long afterwards about the funeral, and of Dr. Carter, " he as 
used to be called Laddie," and the pretty young woman who was known 
as Laddie's sweetheart. 

Wouldn't the dear old soul have been proud if she could have seen 
them? — but she's better off where she is. There where there ain't no 
burying, no, nor pride, neither. 



74 



THE CHARIOT RACE. 

BY LEW WALLACE. 
From " Ben-Hur," copyright 1880, by Harper & Brothers. 



Arranged by Sara Lord Bailey. 



(Printed by permission of Harper & Brothers, Publishers.) 
INTRODUCTION. , 

In presenting the Chariot Race from Ben-Hur, by Gen. Lew Wallace, 
it is but justice to the author to say that in arranging and condensing for 
delivery in the shortest space, it has been necessary to transpose some 
portions of it. 

Ben-Hur, a Jew, and Messala, a Roman, have been rivals from child- 
hood, Ben-Hur having suffered great injuries at the hands of Messala ; 
his property being confiscated, his mother and sister cast into prison and 
Ben-Hur himself sent to the galleys for life. After years of toil, he saved 
the life and won the favor of Arius, his master, who adopted him as his 
son. Soon afterwards, Arius died, leaving his name and fortune to Ben- 
Hur, who then returned to Judea in search of his mother and sister. 

On arriving at Antioch, Ben-Hur learned of the great " Roman Chariot 
Race," which was about to take place and was the great event of the 
season, and also that Messala, his bitter enemy, was one of the principal 
contestants. Ben-Hur determined to enter the lists under the name of 
Arius and crush the haughty Roman. 

For this purpose he secured four beautiful Arab steeds, belonging to 
Ilderim, a venerable shiek of the desert. Messala was so confident of 
success that he had staked his whole fortune upon winning the race. 

The prizes offered were " 100,000 " sestertii and a crown of laurel. 



The great arena is before us. The trumpet sounded short and sharp, 
and simultaneously the gate-keeper threw the stalls open. First came the 
mounted attendants of the charioteers, five in all, Ben-Hur having rejected 



75 

the service. The chalk-line was lowered to let them pass, then raised 
again. 

The gate-keepers called their men. Instantly the ushers on the 
balcony waved their hands and shouted with all their strength : " Down ! 
down ! " As well have whistled to stay a storm. Forth from each stall, 
like missiles in a volley from so many great guns, rushed the six fours ; 
and up the vast assemblage rose, electrified and irrepressible, and leap- 
ing upon the benches, filled the circus and the air above it with yells and 
screams. 

The competitors were now under full view from nearly every part of 
the circus, yet the race was not begun ; they must first make the chalked 
line. The arena swam in a dazzle of light, yet each driver looked first for 
the rope, then for the coveted inner line. So, all six aiming at the same 
point and speeding furiously, a collision seemed inevitable. The crossing 
was about two hundred and fifty feet in width. Quick the eye, steady 
the hand, unerring the judgment required. 

Look with me upon the arena, see it glistening in its frame of dull 
gray granite walls ; see the chariots, light of wheel, and ornate as paint 
and burnishing can make them — Messala's rich with ivory and gold ; see 
the drivers, erect and statuesque, undisturbed by the motion of the cars, 
in their left hands the reins, passing taut from the four ends of the car- 
riage poles ; see the fours chosen for beauty as well as for speed ; see 
them in magnificent action, heads tossing, nostrils in play, now distent, 
now contracted — limbs too dainty for the sand which they touch but to 
spurn — every muscle of the rounded bodies instinct with glorious life, 
justifying the world in taking from them its ultimate measure of force. 

The competitors have started each on the shortest line for the posi- 
tion next the wall. The fours neared the rope together. Then the 
trumpeter blew a signal. The judges dropped the rope, and not an 
instant too soon, for the hoof of one of Messala's horses struck it as it 
fell. Nothing daunted, the Roman shook out his long lash, loosed the 
reins, leaned forward, and, with a triumphant shout, took the wall. 

"Jove with us ! Jove with us ! " yelled the Roman faction, in a 
frenzy of delight. 

As Messala turned in, the bronze lion's head at the end of his axle 
caught the fore-leg of the Athenian's right-hand tracemate, flinging the 
brute over against its yoke-fellow. Both staggered, struggled and lost 
their headway. The thousands held their breath with horror. Messala 
speeds on. The Corinthian was the only contestant on the Athenian's 
right, and to that side the latter tried to turn his broken four ; and then, 



7 6 

as ill-fortune would have it, the wheel of the Byzantine, who was next on 
the left, struck the tail-piece of his chariot, knocking his feet from under 
him. There was a crash, a scream of rage and fear, and the unfortunate 
Cleanthes fell under the hoofs of his own steeds. Every bench upon 
which there was a Greek was vocal with execrations and prayers for 
vengeance. On swept the Corinthian, on the Byzantine, on the Sidonian 

"A hundred sestertii on the Jew ! " cried Sanballat. 

" Taken ! " answered Drusus. 

Ben-Hur was to the front, coursing freely forward along with the 
Roman. 

Behind them, in a group, followed the Sidonian, the Corinthian and 
the Byzantine. 

The race was on ; the souls of the racers were in it ; over them bent 
the myriads. 

When the race began Ben-Hur was on the extreme left of the six. 
For a moment, like the others, he was half blinded by the light in the 
arena ; yet he managed to catch sight of his antagonists and divine their 
purpose. At Messala, who was more than an antagonist to him, he gave 
one searching look. He thought he saw the soul of the man as through 
a glass, darkly ; cruel, cunning, desperate ; not so excited as determined, 
and Ben-Hur felt his own resolution harden to a like temper. At what- 
ever cost, at all hazards he would humble this enemy ! Prize, friends, 
wages, honor — everything that can be thought of as a possible interest in 
the race was lost in the one deliberate purpose. When not half way 
across the arena, he saw that Messala's rush would, if there was no collision 
and the rope fell, give him the wall. The rope fell, and all the fours but 
Ben-Hur's sprang into the course under urgency of voice and lash. Ben- 
Hur drew head to the right, and darted across the trails of his opponents, 
swept around and took the course on the outside, neck and neck with 
Messala. The two neared the second goal. Viewed from the West, was 
a stone wall in the form of a half-circle. Making a successful turn at this 
point was the most telling test of the charioteer. A hush fell over all the 
circus ; the rattle and clang of the cars plunging after the tugging steeds, 
were distinctly heard. Then, it would seem, Messala observed Ben-Hur- 
and for the first time recognized him ; instantly the audacity of the man 
flamed out in an astonishing manner. Whirling his lash with practised 
hand he caught the Arabs of Ben-Hur a cut the like of which they had 
never known, simultaneously shouting : " Down, Eros ! Up, Mars ! " 

The cruel blow was seen in every quarter, and the amazement was 
universal. Down from the balcony, as thunder falls, burst the indignant 



77 

cry of the spectators. Forward sprang the affirighted Arabs as with one 
impulse, and forward leaped the car. No hand had ever been laid upon 
them except in love. What should such dainty natures do under such 
indignity but leap as from death. Where got Ben-Hur the large hand 
and mighty grip which helped him now so well? Where, but from the 
oar with which so long he fought the sea ! And what was this spring of 
the floor under his feet to the dizzy eccentric lurch with which in the old 
time, the trembling ship yielded to the beat of staggering billows drunk 
with power? 

So he kept his place and gave the four free rein, and calling to them 
in soothing voice, tried merely to guide them round the dangerous turn ; 
and before the fever of the people began to abate he had back the 
mastery. On approaching the first goal, he was again side by side with 
Messala, bearing with him the sympathy and admiration of every one not 
a Roman. 

Three rounds concluded the race ; still Messala held the inside posi- 
tion ; still Ben-Hur moved with him side by side ; still the other com- 
petitors followed as before. 

Gradually the speed had been quickened — gradually the blood of 
the competitors warmed with the work. Men and beasts seemed to know 
alike that the final crisis was near. 

The interest which from the beginning had centered chiefly in the 
struggle between the Roman and the Jew, with an intense sympathy for 
the latter, was fast changing to anxiety on his acconnt. 

"A hundred sestertii on the Jew ! " cried Sanballat. There was no 
reply. " A talent — or five talents, or ten; choose ye ! " But the offer 
was refused. Messala has reached his utmost speed. See the reins loose 
as flying ribbons, while Ben-Hur throws all his weight on the bits. As 
they n eared the second goal, Ben-Hur turned behind the Roman's car. 
The joy of the Messala faction reached its bound ; they screamed, howled 
and tossed their colors ; while Sanballat filled his tablet with wagers. 
Ben-Hur was hardly holding a place at the tail of his enemy's car. 

Along the home-stretch — sixth round — Messala, fearful of losing his 
place, hugged the stony wall with perilous clasp ; a foot to the left, and 
he had been dashed to pieces. One ball and one dolphin remained to 
decide the success of the race, and all the people drew a long breath, for 
the beginning of the end was at hand. 

" Ben-Hur ! Ben-Hur ! " shouted the throng. 

From the benches above him as he passed, the favor descended in 



78 

fierce injunctions. "Speed thee, Jew! Take the wall now! Now or 
never ! " 

At the second goal even still no change ! And now, to make the 
turn, Messala began to draw in his left-hand steeds. On the three 
pillars, only six hundred feet away, were fame, increase of fortune, pro- 
motions and a triumph ineffably sweet by hate, all in store for him. 

Ben-Hur leaned forward over his Arabs and gave them the reins. 
Out flew the many folded lash in his hands • over the backs of the startled 
steeds it writhed and hissed, and hissed and writhed again and again ; 
though it fell not, there were both sting and menace in its quick report. 
Instantly not one, but the four as one, answered with a leap that landed 
them alongside the Roman's car. 

At the moment chosen for the final dash, Messala was moving in a 
circle round the goal. To pass him, Ben-Hur had to cross the track in a 
forward direction. The four close outside Messala's outer wheel ; Ben- 
Hur's inner wheel behind the other's car. With the iron-shod point of 
his axle he caught Messala's wheel and crushed it. There was a crash 
loud enough to send a thrill through the Circus, and out over the course 
a spray of shining white and yellow flinders new. 

Down on its right side toppled the bed of the Roman's chariot. 
There was a rebound as of the axle hitting the hard earth ; another and 
another ; then the car went to pieces, and Messala, entangled in the reins, 
pitched forward headlong. 

To increase the horror the Sidonian, who had the wall next behind, 
could not stop or turn out. Into the wreck full speed he drove • then 
over the Roman, and into the latter's four, all mad with fear. 

The Corinthian and Byzantine go on down the course after Ben-Hur, 
who had not been an instant delayed. The people arose, and leaped 
upon the benches and shouted and screamed. Those who looked that 
way caught glimpses of Messala, now under the trampling of the fours, 
now under the abandoned cars ; but far the greater number followed Ben- 
Hur in his career. 

They had not seen the cunning touch of the reins by which he had 
been able to overthrow Messala, but they had seen the transformation of 
the man, and themselves felt the heat and glow of his spirit, the heroic 
resolution, the maddening energy of action with which he so suddenly 
inspired his Arabs. And such running ! It was rather the long leaping 
of lions in harness ; but for the lumbering chariot, it seemed the four were 
flying. And above the noises of the race there was but one voice, and 
that was Ben-Hur's. In the old Aramaic, as the shiek himself, he called 



79 

to the Arabs : " On, Atair ! On, Rigel ! What, Antares ! dost thou 
linger now ! Good horse — Oho, Aldebaran ! I hear them singing in 
the tents, singing of the stars, of Atair, Antares, Rigel, Aldebaran, and 
victory ! And the song will never end. 

" Well done ! Home to-morrow, under the black tent — home ! On ' 
Ha, ha, ha ! The hand that smote us is in the dust. Ours the glory ! 
On ! Ha, ha ! The work is done — Rest ! " 



8o 



LIFE FOR LIFE. 

BY ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS. 
An adaptation from " A Son of Issachar. 



Arranged by Sara Lord Bailey. 



(Printed by permission of G. P. Putnam's Sons, Publishers.) 
INTRODUCTION. 

The incident which I am about to relate is supposed to have taken 
place in Judea during the life of Christ. Judas Iscariot, spoken of as 
Judah Bar-Simon, has been arrested as a conspirator against the Roman 
empire in Judea, and has been condemned to fight against lions in the 
amphitheatre. 

The conditions are that if the lions do not kill him, he is to be sent 
to the galleys for life. The hero, Cheliel Bar-Asha, being under great 
obligations to Judas, resolves to take his place. In order to do this, he 
obtains an order to visit the prisoner from the Centurion Vettius, who has 
charge of Judas, and then treacherously kills him. The scene opens on 
the next morning, in the amphitheatre, which is crowded with people. 
* ****** * 

" One Juda Bar-Simon, a Jew. For plotting treason against our lord 
the Emperor : to the lions ! If he shall conquer — to the galleys for 
life ! " It was the voice of the editor or manager of the games that day 
in the circus of Csesarea Phillippi. 

Already the games had been in progress. There had been wrestling 
and tumbling ; there had been foot-races and chariot-races ; there had 
been exhibitions of trained beasts. Cheers for the victors and favorites, 
jeers for the defeated. And now must come that tinge of blood without 
which, no exhibition in circus or amphitheatre was deemed complete. 

To the waiting throng that filled the stone benches the announce- 
ment was most welcome. They hoped this criminal, Bar-Simon, would 
prove alert and strong, otherwise his tussle with the lions would be but 
stupid sport. A crouch, a spring, a crunching of human bones, and all 



8i 

would be over. They wished, rather, for a show of skill, a chance to 
watch, to criticise, to applaud. Whether in the end man or lion should 
receive the applause, was to them a matter of small concern. 

The narrow door of one of the vaulted cells beneath the overhanging 
tiers swung open. The man was first to be displayed. 

A murmur of applause rang through the curious throng. " By Bac- 
chus ! " said one to his neighbor ; " a promising-looking young fellow 
this Bar-Simon. Here may yet be sport." 

Naked, save for the closely fitting cloth that covered his loins, with a 
netting of light but strong stuff thrown across his left arm, and with a 
sharpened spatha — or short sword — in his right hand, the false Bar-Simon 
stepped into the amphitheatre. His eyes made the round of the crowded 
circus. Not a friend in all that throng. Only a mass of curious faces 
waiting to see him die. Well, if his hour indeed had come they should 
see that he did not fear death, he would die game. And with a look of 
defiance and determination on his handsome face he walked swiftly to 
the centre of the sand-strewn arena and awaited his foes. 

With a rattling, grating sound the iron bars that screened the front 
of another of those underground cells were lifted from above. A 
moment's delay and then a tawny muzzle, topped with a thick, black 
mane, was thrust through the opening. Another moment, and a great 
lion, his shaggy yellow hide plentifully shaded with black, sprung, with a 
roar of relief at this sudden freedom, out toward the centre of the ring. 
The rattling rise of another and yet another cage door succeeded, and 
from their respective dens another and yet another lion followed the 
leader. Bar-Asha was to have no lack of work. 

The great cats lay, for a while, crouched listlessly upon the sand. Their 
eyes roamed about the circus, curious, wondering. They seemed in no- 
haste to do more than crouch and investigate their surroundings. 

The watchers grew impatient. " Ho ! in the ring there ; stir them 
up ! " came the cry from the benches. But Bar-Asha, his eyes on the 
lions, still stood with folded arms, immovable as a statue. 

The shout roused the tawny brutes. Two of them rose and stealthily 
made the circuit of the amphitheatre, with lowered heads. Then one, 
wheeling quickly about, as if to reverse the circuit, came sharply against 
his fellow. There was an angry snarl, a deep growl, a double roar, and 
in an instant the two great beasts, rivals perhaps in days of freedom on 
African sands, grappled in deadly struggle. 

Awakened by this familiar sound of battle, the third lion — he who 
had first sprung from the cages — looked about for an antagonist. He 



82 

spied Bar-Asha still standing upright and immovable. With a dull, 
purring growl he crawled toward that upright figure, and crouched for the 
death-dealing spring. There is a movement in the statue. The folded 
arms draw quickly apart. The shawl, stripped from the arm, is held 
loosely in the hand. 

The tawny head draws slowly back. The tension of the legs is 
increased. Then — there is a flash of yellow in the air and the great 
brute launches itself straight at Bar-Asha's head. 

The man's lithe, graceful figure springs aside as the lion cleaves the 
air. It springs aside, but hardly out of range. One blackly-shaded paw 
strikes as the watcher jumps, and down upon the sand sprawls the young 
Jew. So ; the lion turns about. " Quick, Jew, or he is on you ! Ha, a 
nimble fellow; see, he is up, he is off;" and with bleeding shoulder, 
but calm and defiant still, he awaits the second attack. 

Again the lion crouches ; again it launches itself in air ; again the 
quick young athlete springs aside. Here is no second fall. The wary 
eye watches every motion, the strong but supple hands grasp the scarf- 
like net and hold it far to the right ; then, as the lion touches the ground, 
the scarf, with a dexterous fling, is thrown about the great head and in an 
instant the whole forepart of the beast is all enveloped in the encircling 
net. 

Struggling, tearing, raging to free himself from this unexpected 
encumbrance, the lion for an instant seems to forget its human foe and 
endeavors only to relieve itself of the all-entangling net. It is Bar-Asha's 
opportunity. With a spring he is at the side of this tossing, tumbling 
brute. Quick of stroke and sure of aim he buries the sharp-bladed 
spatha deep in the lion's body. Again the thrust is sped. With a roar 
of mingled rage and pain the lion frees its head from the distracting net 
and snaps savagely at its foe. And now — " Ye gods ! but he is a cool 
fellow ! " Bar-Asha drives his short sword twice again into the very vitals 
of the beast. There is one broken roar, a last convulsive twitch, a final 
attempt to spring, and then, the lion rolls over and, lies dead. 

Meanwhile the other fight has sped with equal advantage. Neither 
rival is the victor. Both are spent and torn. And even as they roll 
apart, seeking respite for a second duel to the death, Bar-Asha, unmind- 
ful of the tumult that fills the crowded tiers, where men and women shout 
in excitement over this double fight, crosses swiftly to the battle-spent 
lions who are not even aware of his presence, so intent are they upon 
their own great quarrel. Intrepid, wary, quick, and all alert, Bar-Asha 
falls first upon one of the duellists and then upon the other. Each 



»3 

•shaggy neck feels the death-thrust of that merciless steel, and almost 
.before the excited watchers appreciate his act Bar-Asha stands triumph- 
ant — victor over three African lions ! 

Shout upon shout ran through the crowded circus, and soon, above 
the cheers, could be distinguished the cry, " Pardon, pardon for the Jew ! 
Life for the victor ! No galleys, no galleys ! Pardon for the son of 
Simon ! " 

The editor of the games sprang into the ring. No need to fear the 
lions now. Only their victor lives. The edito7- threw a laurel wreath 
upon Bar Asha's curly hair. " Brave fellow ! " he cried, even his circus- 
sated nature roused to enthusiasm. " The like I never saw. Yonder is 
the noble tetrarch. Down on your knees and sue for pardon and for 
mercy." 

With outstretched hands Bar-Asha turned toward the royal box. 
And Philip, the tetrarch, gentler and more merciful than his brothers of the 
Herod blood, himself full of delight over his triple triumph, cried : " Well 
and bravely fought, O Jew ! Go free. I take it on myself to set you 
right with Rome." 

But, even as the victor in the contest turned to leave the scene of 
his marvellous success — a free man once more — the sound of clattering 
hoofs was heard without, and through the entrance-way, straight into the 
arena, galloped a Roman spearman. 

"Hold ! No freedom for an assassin ! Tetrarch, I claim a prisoner. 
Here is a trick. Here is not the Bar-Simon you did condemn to death. 
This is Bar-Asha of Nain. He has foully murdered in his own house at 
Capernaum, the Centurion Vettius ! " 

Into every man's life come moments of crisis when, for good or ill, 
fate must be boldly faced and the future hazarded upon a single act. 
Such a moment had come to Cheliel Bar-Asha. Victor in a crowded and 
applauding circus, he must now play the craven or strike for liberty. 

" Back, Roman ! The tetrarch has given me my life. I hold him to 
his pledge." 

" Fool ! Rome's vengeance doth outweigh a tetrarch's pledges. 
You killed a soldier of the Emperor. Your life is forfeit. Yield yourself 
prisoner, or die even where you stand." 

Bar-Asha brandished aloft his victorious sword, still red with the 
blood of the slaughtered lions. 

" Who touches hand to me, dies like these beasts that I have slain ! 
Beware ! Stand off, or follow your captain down to hell ! " 

" Ho, base Jew; work you in such guise ! Hollo, my soldiers ! " the 



8 4 

spearman called to those who followed him. " Close in ; charge home t 
Strike down this dog of an assassin ! " 

" Rescue ! " Bar-Asha cried, raising his hands in appeal to the 
crowded tiers where still the people sat, full of excitement and with 
growing interest in this unexpected addition to the day's programme of 
sport. " Rescue for him whom the tetrarch has pardoned ! " 

The soldier sprang from his horse. The little detail of spearmen who 
accompanied him charged through the entrance-way. The people rose 
to their feet in a tumult of protest and of cheers. But even as Bar-Asha, 
bracing himself for the assault, defiantly stood at bay, over the low parapet 
that capped the inner ring, there leaped, here and there, in various parts 
of the amphitheatre, certain swarthy men of the hills — a good score at 
least — and as they sprang into the arena they drew from beneath their 
cloaks the gleaming daggers of the knifemen. 

They surrounded the victor of the day. " Rescue for Bar-Asha I 
Rescue for the hero of Gamala ! Death to Rome ! " 

"Treason! treason! rally for Rome!" the soldiers cried. But 
all too late. The deadly weapons of the rescuers flashed in air. Down 
fell the spearman, dead, beneath those fatal knives. Down, too, fell 
many soldiers of the Roman band, surprised and overpowered by that 
unlooked-for attack. The whole circus was in an uproar. 

" Live ! " the knifemen cried : " Juda Bar-Simon sends you life for 
life ! " And raising Bar-Asha in their arms, they dashed with him away 
before the scattered guard of the tetrarch had time to rally to the aid of 
Rome. 






85 



THE SILVER TEAPOT.' 



Four children^ sat around a wood-fire in an old-fashioned country- 
house. The red embers blazed up merrily and showed four flushed 
little faces, four very tangled heads of hair, eight bright, merry eyes, and 
— I regret extremely to add — eight very dirty little hands, belonging, 
respectively, to Bess, Bob, Archie and Tom. Mamma was away you may 
be sure. If she were at home the children would have made a very 
different appearance. 

The round table was wheeled in front of the fire and the student- 
lamp shed its light on Tom's letter which he was writing to his mother. 

Archie was leaning back in the large chair ; his arm, which he had 
broken in riding the trick-mule of the circus the day before, was in a 
splint, but, judging from the rapid disappearance of the gingerbread on 
the plate near him, it is to be doubted if trick-mules or broken arms seri- 
ously impair the appetite. 

"Bess, stop jogging the table ! How on earth can a fellow write 
with you around? " 

"Read what you've written," said Bess. 

" Yes, do," chimed in Archie. 

"Wait till it's done," answered Tom. Writing a letter was no joke 
for Thomas Bradley, junior. 

" How on earth do you spell circus ? " 

" S-u-r-k-e-s-s," answered Bess promptly. 

" No you don't," cried Tom, " I know better." 

" If you know so much, why do you ask," retorted Bess. 

" Oh, come Bess ! do think, can't you? " 

" There's a c in it," put in Archie ; " for I saw the big red and blue 
posters in the village and I know there was a c in circus." 

"Then it's c-i-r-k-i-s," said Bess. 

" Yes ; I guess that's right. No, I don't believe it is right. See here, Bob ! 
you're a first-rate little boy — a real, regular first-rate good boy, you are." 

" If it's upstairs, I won't," declared Bob, who knew that flattery 
always preceded errands. 



86 

" Oh, yes, Bobby ! You know where my dictionary is, up in my 
room, on the table. Run along and get it, — that's a good boy." 

"Go yourself!" 

" Oh, I'm so tired. Come, Bob, I'll tell mamma what a good boy 
you are, if you will." 

"Won't you tell her I dropped the teapot down the well? " 

"Oh, did you? " cried Tom, Bess and Archie, all in a breath. 

"Which one?" 

"The big silver one," said Bob. 

"How? Why? What were you doing with it? " 

" The gardner wouldn't lend me the watering-pot, and I wanted to 
water my garden. I went to fill it at the well, and the bucket hit it right 
over into the well. It was the bucket's fault. I ain't to blame. If you 
won't tell mamma, I'll go for your book." 

" Well, I won't tell her in this letter, any way." 

"Don't tell her at all." 

" If you don't go right off and get it, I'll write it this moment." 

" I'll go, I'll go ! " cried Bobby. 

" That's the worst scrape yet. If Archie did break his arm, he's- 
got it mended now ; but the teapot ! That's dropped down the well, and 
there it is." 

After a while Tom's letter was finished, and ran as follows : 

" Dear Mamma : I wish you was home. We have dun a good 
menny bad things. Bess got lost in the woods, and most drowned in 
Rainy Pond. I shot Kate thru the head with a squirt of water, and most 
killed her. Archie broke his arm trying to wride the trick-mule at the 
curkis. Bob has dun worst of all, but I said I wouldn't tel that. Bob 
has dun a dredful thing ; but I sed I woodn't tel, so I won't. It's orfuL 
Papa is very good to us, and don't make us wash too much. The bred is 
orful ; Maggy is cross. But we're all well, except Archy's arm, and Dr. 
Jarvis says if he don't get fever he will get well. 

" Your loving son, 

"Tom." 

" P. S. You will feel orful bad about what Bob's dun." 

The next morning all four children were gathered around the well, 
at the bottom of which lay the silver teapot. 

" I see it, I see it ! " cried Tom, eagerly. " It's down at the bottom.'" 

" Did you suppose it would float?" said Bess. 

" Let me see," cried Bob. 



87 

Meanwhile Bess had gone to the house for a long fishing-pole, and 
soon returned, carrying it. 

" We'll fasten a hook to the end of it and fish the teapot up," said she. 

"Ho, ho ! Do you suppose it will bite like a fish? " laughed Tom. 

" No, I do not, Tom Bradley. But I suppose if I tie a string to the 
pole, and fasten an iron hook to one end, we can draw it up. " 

" There's something in that, Bess. Let me try." 

Before half an hour had passed, the four children, all armed with 
fishing-poles, were intently digging their elbows into each other's sides, in 
their frantic attempts to get the teapot. 

Every few minutes Tom would pull Bess back by her sunbonnet, and 
save her from tumbling over in her eagerness. 

" Stop jerking my head so ! " she cried. 

" You'll be in, in a minute ; you'd have been in then, if I hadn't 
jerked you," said Tom. 

"Well, what if I had? Let me alone. If I go in, that's my own 
lookout." 

" Your own look in, you mean. My gracious ! Wouldn't you 
astonish the toads down there ! But you'd get your face clean." 

" Now, Tom, you let me be. I most had it that time." 

" So you've said forty times. This is all humbug. I'm going down 
on the rope for it." 

" Oh, no, Tom ; please don't. Indeed you'll be drowned ; the rope 
will break ; you'll kill yourself; you'll catch cold," cried Bess, in alarm. 

" Pooh ! girl ! coward ! " retorted thankless Tom. "Who's afraid of 
that? Stand back, small boys, I'm going in." 

" It will be so cold." 

"I'll scream for a hundred years, without stopping, Tom," cried 
Bess, wildly. " You shan't go down — you shan't ; I'll call some one. 
Murray ! Peter ! Maggie ! C-o-o-o-o-o-o-me ! O-o-o-o-h, c-o-o-ome ! " 

" Stop screaming and help. Now, do you three hold on tight to 
this bucket ; don't let go for a moment ; pull away as hard as you can 
when I tell you to. Now for it." 

And, without more ado, Tom clung to the other rope with his hands, 
and twisted his feet around the bucket-handle. 

" Hold on tight, and let me down easy," said Tom ; and the three 
children lowered him little by little. 

A sudden splash and shiver told them he had reached water, and a 
shout of triumph declared that the teapot was rescued. 



88 

As Tom shouted, all the children let go the rope and rushed to the 
side of the well to look at the victorious hero. 

It was a most fortunate circumstance that the water in the well was 
low. As it was, he stood in the cold water up so his shoulders. 

" What made you let go? " roared Tom. 

"Oh, Tom, have you got it? Have you, really? Ain't it cold? 
Are you hurt? Were you scared? Is the teapot broken? " 

" Draw me up ! Why don't you draw me up? " 

But all the united efforts could not raise Tom. 

" I'll run next door and call Mr. Wilson," said Bess, hopefully, and 
started. 

As Bess ran, she was suddenly stopped at the gate by the sight of a 
carriage which had just driven up, - and out of which now stepped Aunt 
Maria and Aunt Maria's husband, Uncle Daniel. These were the very 
grimmest and grandest of all the relations. 

For one awful moment Bess stood stunned. Then her anxiety for 
Tom overcame every other consideration, and before Aunt Maria could 
say, "How do you do, Elizabeth?" she had caught her uncle by his 
august coat-tail, and, in a piteous voice, besought him to come and pull 
on the rope. 

"Pull on a rope, Elizabeth?" said Uncle Daniel, who was a very 
slow man; " why should I pull on a rope, my dear? " 

"Oh, come quick ! hurry faster ! Tom's down in the well ! " 

" Tom down in a well ! How did he get there? " 

" He went down for the teapot," sobbed Bess; " the silver teapot, 
and we can't pull him up again. Oh, do hurry ! " 

JTncle Daniel leisurely looked down at Tom. Then he slowly took 
off his coat, took hold of the rope, gave a long, strong, calm pull, and in 
an instant Tom, " Dripping with coolness, arose from the well." 

— Anon. 



THE BOSTON VENDER'S CALL. 

(Suggestive of the different calls heard upon the streets of Boston.) 



Written for Sara Lord Bailey. 



One summer's day when all was still 

I rested at my window sill : 
The busy town along the bay 

In pearly mists and vapors lay. 

Now as I mused on times agone, 

I heard a voice that floated on 
The balmy air, in tones so sweet 

I thought that e'en upon the street 
The calls of him who vends his wares 

The music of his soul declares. 
The cadence rose and fell betimes 

As if 'twas caught from distant chimes ; 
"Images, images, buy images." 

Then to my listening ear was borne, 

Like battle trumpets signal tone, 
The vigorous, Celtic voice of him, 

Old Ireland's son with Irish vim. 
" Charcoal, charcoal, charcoal." 

Italia's dreamy notes again 
Receding from the vender came, 

And joined the voice of charcoal man, 
Which came as from a shouting clan. 

Though far away Italia's cry, 
The charcoal vender's call was nigh. 

" Charcoal — images, — charcoal — images.' 



9 o 

Off on the water's placid breast, 

I heard the sailors join with zest, 
And o'er the bay there rose and fell 

As if upon the ocean's swell, 
It floated like a sea-born thing 

That sped it's course with fluttering wing, 
The song of the gallant sailor boy. 

" Now heave ahoy, and heave ahoy." 

Upon my ear unwarned smote 

A fisher's horn with blatant note, 

And then a cry, both loud and shrill. 
"Fresh mackerel, fresh mackerel." 

The little boys with laughter still 

Piped mocking forth, "Fresh mackerel." 

Then answered he a housewife's voice, 

Who asked if they were very choice. 
" Oh, yes, marm, or I'll be foresworn." 

" Aye," cried a rival " in a horn," 
Who approached and dealt out fish 

To all who proffered pan or dish. 
The fisher blew his horn aloud, 

To drown the laughter of the crowd. 
As off he drove, the rival still 

Announced in verse, " Fresh mackerel ! 
Here's your nice fresh mackerel. 

Three for a quarter, 
One for yourself, one for your wife, 

One for your daughter." 

Now every sound that forms a part 
Of vender's call, or vender's art. 

Came madly forth repose to rend 

In shout or song, " Wash tubs to mend ! 

To mend, to mend, to mend." 

" Matches, matches, matches." 

"Old Trigs, boots and bottles." 

-7?olo¥,TuyXbTolEob, buy lob." 



9 1 

" Here's the Journal, Herald, Globe and Post, 
Evening Traveler, Transcript, Times. 

Have Herald. Have Herald, Sir? 
All about the murder ! " 



Hark to the clang and solemn knells, 

The warning note of deep-toned bells 1 

Bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells. 
And with the clang from lofty spire, 

Are mingled cries of " Fire ! fire ! fire ! " 



Along the street with rush and rattle, 
Like troops and cannon on to battle, 

Bold firemen with their engines speed ; 
Impetuous urge the foaming steed. 

Ah, would the muses could inspire 

My verse with charm of Orpheus' Lyre, 
That I these brave men's deeds might sing, 

Who to the fiery altars bring 
Their hopes, their lives, at duty's call, 

And threatening flames that oft appall. 
The foremost hearts they bold defy, 

With strength imparted from on high. 
They go to conquer, while there swells 

The signal note of 'larum bells. 
Bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells. 

The scene is changed to peaceful rest, 

And quiet soothes my troubled breast. 

The mellow notes of music rise, 

And mingle with the zephyr's sighs, 

As once again, my ear to please, 
Italia's son calls, "Images, 

Images, images, buy images." 



Q2 



HOW THE LADIES USUALLY FISH. 



There are generally three or four of them in a bunch with light dresses 
on. They have two or three poles with as many hooks and lines among them. 

When they get to the edge of the bank they look around for a good 
place to get down, and the most venturesome one sticks her boot-heels in 
the bank and takes two careful steps down, and then suddenly finds 
herself at the bottom with arms in the water, and a feeling as though every- 
body in the wide world was looking at her and she never tells anybody 
how she got there. 

The other girls, profiting by her example, turn around and go down 
the bank on their hands and toes backwards. When they arrive at the 
bottom they scamper along until they come to a good shallow place where 
they can see the fish and they shout : — " Oh ! my, I see one ! " 

"Where?" "There ! " 

" Oh ! my, so it is." " Let's catch him." " Who's got the bait? " 

" Why, you lazy thing, you're sitting on my pole." 

All these exclamations are gotten off in a tone that awakens every 
echo within a half-mile and sends every fish within a square acre into 
" galloping hysterics." 

By superhuman exertions the girls manage to get a worm on the 
hook, and then they throw it in with a splash like the launching of a wash- 
tub. When a silver fin comes along and nibbles at the bait, they pull it 
up with a jerk that had an unfortunate fish weighing less than ten pounds 
been on the pole it would have been landed eight or ten miles away. 

Finally, a simple-minded fish contrives to get itself fastened on the 
hook of a timid woman who gives vent to her tongue. 

" Oh, something's got my hook ! " 

" Pull up, pull up, you little idiot," shout three or four voices as 
poles are dropped, and they all rush to the rescue. 

The girl with the bite gives a spasmodic jerk that sends that fish into 
the air the full length of twenty-five feet of line, and it comes down on the 
nearest curly-head with a damp flop, that sets her to clawing as though 
" bumble bees " were in her hair. 

" Oh, murder ! take it away, Oh, the nasty thing ! " 



93 

Then the girls pick up their skirts and gather around that fish as he 
skips over the stones, one all the time holding the line with both hands, 
her foot on the pole as though she had an evil disposed goat at the other 
end. 

" Pick it up," says a girl who backs rapidly out of the circle. 

" Good gracious, I'm afraid of it ! There, see, it's opening it's 
mouth at me ! " 

Then the fish manages to free himself from the hook and disappears 
in the water, and the girls try for another bite. 

But the sun comes down and fires the backs of their necks, and they 
get two or three headaches in the party, and they all get cross and scold 
like so many magpies. Finally, they get mad all over, and throw away 
their poles. Then they hunt up their lunch-baskets, and climb up into 
the woods, where they sit around on the grass and caterpillars, and eat 
enough dried beef and hard boiled eggs to give any animal the nightmare. 

Then they compare notes about their different gentlemen, till sun- 
down, when they go home and plant envy in the hearts of all their 
friends, by telling them "just what a splendid time they have had." 

— Anon. 



94 



THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 



Arranged by Sara Lord Bailey. 



(By permission of J. B. Lippincott & Co., Publishers.) 
INTRODUCTION. 

Cigarette was a vivandiere in the Army of Africa. She was pretty, 
she was mischievous, she could fire galloping. She was a true child of 
Paris and yet she was not wholly unsexed, for she had the delicious 
fragrance of youth and a certain feminine grace, although she had been 
born in a barrack and meant to die in a battle. She was the pet of the 
Army of Africa, and the soldiers had been her books, her teachers, her 
models, all the days of her life. She had no guiding star except the 
eagles on the standards, and she worshipped but two deities, — Glory and 
France. 

She had never loved anybody, until her wild generous heart turned 
toward a strange Chasseur, who was known in the regiment as Louis Victor. 

He was a silent man, of mien and manners which bespoke nobility of 
race and character, who always treated her with gentle courtesy, but 
seemed to forget her existence when she passed from his sight. He was 
a splendid soldier, and would have held some distinguished rank, but for 
the tyrannical hatred of his colonel, known as the " Black Hawk," who 
missed no opportunity of insulting and worrying the man who could not 
even reply. 

At last the cruelty and malignity of the "Black Hawk " reached 
such a pitch that Louis Victor, meeting him alone as man to man, struck 
him, and thus brought upon himself the inevitable military sentence of 
death. 

The day before the execution, which was to take place at the next 
dawn, was well advanced when a swift pigeon brought Cigarette news of 
his impending fate. And the sun was already declined from his noon 



95 

when she rode out of Algiers, to seek the headquarters of the Marshal of 
France and Viceroy of Africa, fifty miles away. 



The horse was reeking with smoke and foam, and the blood was 
coursing from his flanks, as she reached her destination at last, and 
threw herself off his saddle as he sank faint and quivering to the ground. 
The soldiers clustered eagerly around her beneath the gates, and over the 
fallen beast, a thousand questions pouring from their curious tongues. 

Cigarette looked at them a moment, then loosened her Cross of the 
Legion of Honor, and held it out to an adjutant. 

"Take that to the man who gave it me. Tell him Cigarette waits; 
and with each moment that she waits a soldier's life is lost. Go ! " 

A few minutes and she was summoned to the marshal's presence. 
The marshal turned to her with a smile in his keen, stern eyes. 

" You, my girl ! What brings you here? " He started as he saw the 
change upon her features. 

" Monseigneur, I have come from Algiers since noon — " 

" From Algiers ! " 

" Since noon, to rescue a life — the life of a great soldier, of a guilt- 
less man. He who saved the honor of France at Zaraila i^ to die the 
death of a mutineer at dawn." 

" What ! — your Chasseur? " 

" Mine ! — since he is a soldier of France ; yours, too, by that title. I 
am come here from Algiers, to speak the truth in his name, and to save 
him for his own honor and the honor of my Empire. See here ! At 
noon, I have this paper, sent by a swift pigeon — read it ! You see how 
he is to die, and why. Well, by my Cross, by my Flag, by my France, I 
swear that not a hair of his head shall be touched, not a drop of his blood 
shall be shed ! " 

" You speak madly. The offense merits the chastisement. I shall 
not attempt to interfere." 

" Hear me, at least ! You do not know what this man is — how he 
has had to endure ; I do. I have watched him ; I have seen the brutal 
tyranny of his chief, who hated him because the soldiers loved him. I 
have seen him so tried, that I told him — I, who love my army better than 
any living thing under the sun — that I would forgive him if he forgot 
duty and dealt with his tyrant as man to man." 

"It is useless to argue with me, I never change a sentence." 

"But I say that you shall ! You are a great chief; you are as a 



96 

monarch here ; you hold the gifts and the grandeur of the Empire ; but 
because of that — because you are as France in my eyes — I swear, by the 
name of France, that you shall see justice done to him ; after death, if 
you cannot in life. Do you know who he is — this man whom his comrades 
will shoot down at sunrise? " 

" He is a rebellious soldier; it is sufficient." 

" He is not ! He is a man who vindicated a woman's honor ; he is 
a hero who has never been greater than he will be great in his last hour. 
Read that ! What you refuse to justice, courage, and guiltlessness, you will 
grant, may be, to your Order." 

The marshal glanced his eye on the pages carelessly and coldly. 
As he saw the words he started, and read on with wondering eagerness. 

" I hereby affirm that the person serving in the Chasseurs d'Afrique 
under the name of Louis Victor is my elder brother, Bertie Cecil, lawfully, 
by inheritance, the Viscount Royallieu, Peer of England. I hereby also 
acknowledge that I have succeeded to and borne the title illegally, under 
the supposition of his death. 

" (Signed) Berkeley Cecil." 

" How came this in your hands? " 

"Thus: the day that you gave me the cross, I saw the Princess 
Carona. From her I learned that he whom we call Louis Victor was of 
her rank, was of old friendship with her house, was exiled and nameless, 
but for some reason unknown to her. She needed to see him ; to bid 
him farewell, so she said. I sent him to her. He went to her tent ; 
alone, at night ; that was, of course, whence he came when the colonel 
met him. I doubt not the "Black Hawk " had some foul thing to hint 
of his visit, and that the blow was struck for her — for her ! Well, in the 
streets of Algiers I saw a man with a face like his own ; different, but the 
same race, look you. I spoke to him. I taxed him. When he found 
that he of whom I spoke was under sentence of death, he grew mad ; he 
cried out that he was his brother, and had murdered him — that it was for 
his sake that the cruelty of this exile had been borne. Then I bade him 
write down that paper, since these English names were unknown to me, 
and I brought it hither to you that you might see under his hand and 
with your own eyes that I have uttered the truth. And now is that man 
to be shot down like a mad beast whom you fear? Is that death the 
reward France will give for Zaraila? " 

The marshal swung around with a rapid sign to a staff officer. 

" Pens and ink ! instantly ! My brave child, what can we say to 
you? I will send an aid to arrest the execution of the sentence. It 



97 

must be deferred till we know the whole truth of this ; if it be as it looks 
now, he shall be saved if the Empire can save him !" 

He turned and wrote his hurried order. Cigarette caught it from 
his hand. " To me ! to me ! no other will go so fast ! Ah ! I wish I 
had let them tell me of God, that I might ask Him now to bless you ! 
Quick, quick ! Lend me your swiftest horse, one that will not tire. 
And send a second order by your aid ; the Arabs may kill me as I go, 
and then they will not know ! " 

He stooped and touched her little brown, feverish hand with 
reverence. 

" My child, Africa has shown me much heroism, but none like yours. 
If you fall, he shall be safe, and France will know how to avenge its 
darling's loss." 

" Ah, France ! France ! " 

Then, vaulting into the saddle, she rode once more at full speed, out 
into the pitiless blaze of the sun, out to the wasted desolation of the 
plains. And she rode at full speed through the night, as she had done 
through the day, her. eyes glancing all around in the keen instinct of a 
trooper, her hand always on the butt of her belt pistol. For she knew 
well what the danger was of these lonely, unguarded, untraveled leagues. 
Hour on hour, league on league, passed away. She felt the animal quiver 
under the spur ; she did not spare herself; she was giving her life. 

At last her gaze, straining through the darkness, caught sight in the 
distance of some yet darker thing, moving rapidly — a large cloud skim- 
ming the earth, and recognized " A band of Arabs." 

She looked at their advancing band one moment, then turned her 
horse's head and rode straight toward them. 

" They will kill me, but they may save him. Any other way he 
is lost." 

So she rode directly toward them ; rode so that she crossed their 
front, and placed herself in their path. They gave the shrill wild war- 
shout of their tribe, and the whole mass of gaunt, dark, mounted figures, 
with their weapons whirling round their heads, inclosed her. 

" I surrender. I have heard that you have sworn by your God and 
your Prophet to tear me limb from limb because that I — a child, and a 
woman-child — brought you to shame and to grief on the field of Zaraila. 
Well, I am here ; do it. But you are bold men, and the bold are never 
mean ; therefore I will ask one thing of you. There is a man yonder, in 
my camp, condemned to death with the dawn. He is innocent. I have 
ridden from Algiers to-day with the order of his release. If it is not there 



9 8 

by sunrise he will be shot; and he is guiltless as a child unborn. My 
horse is worn out ; he could not go another half league. Take the paper 
that frees him ; send your fleetest and surest with it, under a flag of truce 
into our camp ; let him tell them that I, Cigarette, gave it him — he 
must say no word of what you have done to me, or his white flag will not 
protect him from the vengeance of my army. Answer me ! Is the com- 
pact fair? Ride on with this paper southward, and then kill me with 
what torments you choose." 

A silence fell o'er the clamorous herd — the silence of respect and of 
amaze. The young chief listened gravely. 

" Who is this Frank for whom you do this thing? " 

" He is the warrior to whom you offered life on the field of Zaraila 
because his courage was as the courage of the gods." 

" And for what does he perish? " 

" Because he forgot for once that he was a slave ; and because he 
has borne the burden of a guilt that was not his own. Cut me in ten 
thousand pieces with your swords, but save him, as you are brave men, as 
you are generous foes ! " 

" Maiden, we are Arabs, but we are not brutes. We swore to avenge 
ourselves on an enemy ; we are not vile enough to accept a martyrdom. 
Take my horse — he is the swiftest of my troop — and go you on your 
errand ; you are safe from me." 

" Oh ! do not play with me, for Pity's sake make haste and kill me 
so that this paper only may reach him." 

The young chief lifted her up, up on the saddle of his charger. " Go 
in peace. It is not with such as thee that we war." 

Then, and then only, as she felt the fresh reins placed in her hand, 
and saw the ruthless horde around her fall back and leave her free, did 
she understand his meaning, did she comprehend that he gave her back 
both liberty and life, and, with the surrender of the horse, the noblest and 
most precious gift that the Arab ever bestows or ever receives. The un- 
utterable joy seemed to blind her, and gleam upon her face like the 
blazing light of noon, as she turned her burning eyes full on him. 

" Ah ! now I believe that thine Allah rules thee, equally with the Christ- 
tian ! If I live, thou shalt see me back ere another night ; if I die, 
France will know how to thank thee." 

Then, borne by the fleetness of the desert-bred beast, she went away 
through the heavy dullness of the night. Her brain had no sense, her 
hands had no feeling, her eyes had no sight ; the rushing as of waters was 
loud on her ears, the giddiness of fasting and of fatigue sent the gloom 



99 

eddying round and round like a whirlpool of shadow, yet she had remem- 
brance enough to strain her blind eyes toward the east and murmur, in 
her terror of that white dawn, that must soon break, the only prayer that 
had ever been uttered by the lips no mother's kiss had ever touched : 
" O God! keep the day back I " 



There was a line of light in the eastern sky. The camp was very 
still. He stood tranquil beside the coffin within which his broken limb 
and shot-pierced corpse would so soon be laid forever. There was a 
deep sadness on his face, but it was perfectly serene. He raised his 
hand and gave the signal for his own death-shot. 

The leveled carbines covered him ; he stood erect with his face full 
toward the sun ; ere they could fire, a shrill cry pierced the air : 

"Wait ! in the name of France." 

Dismounted, breathless, with her arms flung upward, and her face 
bloodless with fear, Cigarette appeared upon the ridge of rising ground. 

The cry of command peeled out upon the silence in the voice that 
the Army of Africa loved as the voice of their Little One. And the cry 
came too late \ the volley was fired, the crash of sound thrilled across the 
words that bade them pause, the heavy smoke rolled out upon the air, the 
death that was doomed was dealt. 

But beyond the smoke-cloud he staggered slightly, then stood erect, 
almost unharmed. The flash of fire was not so fleet as the swiftness of 
her love ; and on his breast she threw herself, and flung her arms about 
him, and turned her head backward with her old dauntless sunlit smile as 
the balls pierced her bosom, and broke her limbs, and were turned away 
by that shield of warm young life from him. 

He caught her up where she dropped to his feet. 

" O God ! my child ! they have killed you." 

" Hush ! here is the Marshal's order. He suspends your sentence ; 
you are safe ! — do you hear? " 

" Great Heaven ! you have given your life for mine ! " 

" A life ! what is it to give? France " 

It was the last word upon her utterance. Her eyes met Cecil's in one 
fleeting upward glance of unutterable tenderness, then with her hands still 
stretched out westward to where her country was, and with dauntless 
heroism of her smile upon her face like light, she gave a tired sigh as of a 
child that sinks to sleep, and in the midst of her Army of Africa the 
Daughter of the Regiment lay dead. 



IOO 



A BEDTIME CLASSIC. 

BY J. L. HARBOUR. 



(By permission of the Author.) 

You may have told it over and over again, that wonderful story of 
" Jack the Giant Killer," it may have become stale, flat and unprofitable 
to you, but to your boy of 5 or 6 years it is new every morning and fresh 
every night. No sooner is he in his little white " nighty " than he says : 

" Now, papa, tell me a 'tory." 

" Oh, papa doesn't know any stories to-night." 

" Yes, you do, papa ; you know all about Jack !" 

" But I've told you that story so many times, dear." 

" Well, I like that 'tory, papa, I do, papa, I do." 

" Supposing you tell me a story." 

" Oh, I can't, papa. I ain't a big man, and I can't fink up any 
'tories. Please tell me about Jack, please." 

There is no help for it. You may be " tired to death," but " Jack " 
has to come. You may mentally resolve to make it as brief as possible, 
which, as you speedily discover, simply prolongs the tale. 

" Well," you say, " Jack and his mother — " 

" You didn't say, ' once upon a time,' papa." 

" O well, once upon a time a boy named Jack and his mother lived 
in the woods, and — " 

" You didn't say, ' in a little old house,' papa. Say that, too." 

" Well, in a little old house, and they were very poor, O very poor, 
and—" 

"And Jack didn't have any papa." 

" I was going to say that." 

" I was 'fraid maybe you'd forget it." 

" No, I wouldn't, and they had hardly anything to eat and nothing 
but ragged old things to wear, and one day Jack's mother said — " 

" You didn't say that Jack didn't have any papa." 

" Well, you said it." 



IOI 

" You said you were going to say it, too, and you didn't say it, and 
it b'longs in the 'tory." 

" Oh, well, Jack didn't have any father, and one day — " 

" Nor no little brothers or sisters?" 

" No ) and one day his mother said, ' Jack, we will have to sell the 
cow,' and Jack said ' All right, mother,' and — " 

" Oh, papa, you're not telling the story good at all. You're skippin', 
so you are." 

" What have I skipped?" 

" Oh, about how bad they felt about selling the cow, and about the 
cow being a real cow, and about her milk and about lots of things. Now 
tell it right, papa." 

" If you know it so well, why can't you tell it to me?" 

" Oh, I'm 'fraid I might skip some. Anyhow, little boys can't tell 
stories. Now tell about Jack going out to sell the cow and about the men 
he met and what they said, and about the beans and — now go on, papa, 
and don't skip." 

You sigh and yawn wearily and go on with the weary tale, which gets 
near the climax when you come to the " Fee, foe, fi, fum" part, and if 
this is told with any lack of spirit the boy reminds you of the omission by 
saying that : 

" You must growl, papa, and say it dreadful." 

" Oh, well, the giant said : 

" ' Fee, foe, fi, fum, 

I smell the blood of an Englishman. 

Be he alive or be he dead, 

I'll grind his bones to make me bread.' " 

And then you go on and on relentlessly, and when the weary tale is 
done it almost paralyzes you to have the boy say pleadingly : 

" Now, papa, tell it all over again." 



102 



MRS. SNIFFINS' ADVENTURE WITH A DRAMATIC 
ELOCUTIONIST. 



It is perfectly impossible to get a bit o' peace or quietness in Mrs. 
Arassall's boarding house with the incessant screeching o' that terrible 
Amanda Larkins, as seems to think herself the supreme Madonna o' the 
country, but I don't wonder she complains o' sore throat, such screaming 
must be very aggravatin' to the vocal corns and cartridges. As to her 
boasting about running up to E flat, which is no connection with singin' 
in my opinion, I remarked in my most hysterical manner, that though 
not in right weight now, when I was her age I could run up to any number 
of flats and wouldn't a' thought I had no call to boast on it either, and 
she, that impertinent, burst out with 'er silly giggle right in my face. But 
I must say she was pretty nimble the other evening when it happened 
and all through the slip of my tongue. I had just fallen asleep on the 
sofa when suddenly I was awakened by hearing a man's voice shouting in 
the most voracious manner — 

Awake ! awake ! 

Ring the alarm-bell ! Murder, and treason ! 

Banquo, and Donalbain ! Malcolm ! awake ! 

Shake off this downy sleep — death's counterfeit, 

And look on death itself ! Up ! up ! and see 

The great doom's image ! Malcolm ! Banquo ! 

As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites 

To countenance this horror ! 

And ; I feeling that dazed like, I hardly knew what I was doing — jumped 
up, threw open the window, and rings the dinner bell vociferously shout- 
ing at the same time, fire ! fire ! fire ! till I hadn't a whiff o' breath left. 
Well, such a promotion as there was — with people rushing in and 
draggin' about the furniture and throwing buckets o' water all over Mrs. 
Arassall's carpets and to climax it, participatin' all of the prima-donna's 4 
o'clock china tea set right out of the window — though it wasn't much loss in 
my opinion, for it was about as full of cracks as her own voice is — just then 
when the agitation was at its height down comes a young man as had 



103 

arrived the previous evening and asks " what in the world there was such 
a row about as there was no fire — only I'm a practising — I'm a dramatic 
elocutionist." With that they all seemed perfectly satisfied and quietly 
aspersed. But in my opinion this was no sort of an explanation, as I 
don't care to be living in the house with a dramatic elocutionist, though 
I must say he looked more like a rumatic lunatic, with his long black hair 
parted in the middle and a wild rolling fire in his eye. Well, I makes 
up my mind to watch him, and the very next morning, just when I was a 
reading a letter from John Caesor (I'd better explain that John Caesor is 
my boy and is at school — Oxford — and quite a classical scholar) I had 
my heart nearly analyzed by hearing these words spoken in sepultural 
tone, — 

" My lord, his throat is cut ; that 1 did for him." 

And looking up, I saw that rumatic lunatic wriggling and twisting 
himself into all sorts of haptitudes and his eye — as the poet says " with a 
wild infiuenzy rollin" — while he goes on saying : 

" Ay, my good lord ; safe in a ditch he bides, 
With twenty trenched gashes on his head ; 
The least a death to nature." 

Up to that time I had stood as if prefixed to the spot — but now I 
suddenly remembered that lunatics could be held with a steady glare of 
the eye — so I fastens my troptics on him — at the same time superstitiously 
stealing round the room in the direction of the coal grate, with the inten- 
tion of seizing the tongs — 'till then he hadn't observed me, but now says, 
pointing his long fingers at me — 

" Whence and what art thou, execrable shape, 
That darest, though grim and terrible advance 

Thy miscreated front athwart my way 
To yonder gates? Through them I mean to pass." 

Says I, feeling my nervous system fortified by a pair of tongs with a 
live coal in the end of them, " I'm no more of an execrable shape than 
you are " — with that he screams out, " The woman's mad ! mad, mad, ha 
ha ha mad ! " and seizing the piano-stool, dodges round the room as if he 
had got hold of a galvanic battlement. 

Of course I didn't mean to hurt him, only to hold him at bay, till 
help arrived ; but just at that moment, my foot tripped over a patch in 
the carpet and the tongs went flying through the air, just lighting on that 
lunatic's head and bringing him down with a crash, nearly vitrified me on 



104 

the spot — and by the time I had regained equilibrium, that coal had 
begun to make a regular consternation in his shirt front. Of course I 
didn't want him to burn up, and he a lying there as frigid and helpless as 
one of the high art statutes so I seized a large antiquarian as was stand- 
ing in the bay window, and pours the contents over him. I soon distin- 
guished the flames in his shirt front, but it did go to my heart to see the 
goldfish and lizards and all the other reptiles jumping about so uncomfort- 
able through not being in their native element. 

By that time they had collected a croud, and they picks him up, lays 
him on the sofa, saying as how I had murdered a harmless young gentle- 
man, as was only practising " Macbeth" to recite in the evening at the 
church sociable. " Well," says I, paragorically speaking, " I've spread a 
sheltering wing over that church sociable." 

But it did frighten me some seeing him lying there, looking very 
murdered, dead white and a large cut in his forehead — so I left them 
picking up the goldfish and lizards out of his hair and whiskers, and goes 
to the kitchen to make him a poultice. When I returned, I finds him 
beginning to come to, then he sits up and in a weak voice says — 

" Is that a dagger which I see before me 
The handle toward my hand?" 

" No," says I, " its a poultice of soap and sugar — some say sweet oil 
is better, but in my opinion, soap and sugar is more drawing " — 
" Then," says he, having the ruling passion strong in death, 

" Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it — 
Give me my staff" — 

But they paid no heed to his demonstrance, but poulticed and 
bandaged him up till he looked like a becalmed mummy. 

But I must say he's a real good-hearted young fellow, that evening 

when I was sitting by him bathing his damaged brow, and explaining how 

• it happened, so that I might extripate the label on my character, he 

laughed heartily and said I had a fine opinion of a dramatic elocutionist. 



io5 



A MATRIMONIAL VENTURE. 



BY GERTRUDE POTTER DANIELS. 



(Printed by permission of Four O' Clock, Publishers.) 

Salina Gray had reached a point in her life where she felt that single 
blessedness was a mistake. She had come to the age when the hair grew 
thin on the top of her head. In fact, all the hair she had was drawn into 
the two side curls that hung shaking over her ears. 

Salina was neither tall nor short. She prided herself on her figure, 
which was the only remnant of past attractiveness, for Salina in her 
youth had been extremely pretty. 

Salina was well off. She owned the house in which she lived, 
besides a large tract of land, all under cultivation. But Salina was 
worried and unhappy. She was fighting a losing battle with that fiend 
"Temptation," which had entered her pretty white cottage, in the shape 
of the advertisement of a matrimonial bureau. 

The aims of this bureau were set forth in alluring words. It told of 
uniting handsome, rich, dashing men to charming, clinging, lonely maids. 
It contained written testimonials from happy couples, and gave pictures of 
attractive homes, resulting from the matches which the bureau had made. 
All marriages were guaranteed to turn out well. All that was necessary 
to become one of their clients was a photograph and one dollar. No 
further payment being required, unless all parties concerned were suited. 
And Salina fell. 

The dollar was easy. The photograph was not. She looked at her- 
self in her tiny mirror, and sighed. She could not get away from those 
unmistakable signs of age. Her face was wrinkled ; her eyes had grown 
smaller ; her hair could not be mentioned in the book of heaven, for it 
was not worth the numbering. So, with a sigh, she turned from the glass, 
and her eye fell on a plush-framed picture which stood upon the what-not, 
She took that picture of herself, as she had been twenty years before, and, 
with a long letter and a crisp, new, dollar bill, enclosed it in an envelope. 
After dropping the envelope into the box at the post office, Salina had a 
chill. She filled the vinegar jug with hot water, made a scalding cup of 



io6 

tea, and went to bed. For the next month she was not herself. She 
shivered constantly, started at every step she heard, and was cross, 
nervous and wretched. Old Mrs. Jenkins told the sewing circle, that 
she was sure "Miss Gray was comin' down with a spell of chills and 
fever." 

It was just four weeks, to the day, when a long square package 
arrived for Salina Gray. She retired to her own room, locked the door, 
and closed the blinds. Then she lighted her lamp, and undid the string 
that bound the precious bit of cardboard. Her fingers trembled, and she 
breathed spasmodically. When the paper was finally removed, she gave 
a little cry. The photograph upon which she gazed was that of a young 
man dressed in the lavish loudness of city fashion. Handsome, with a 
mustached beauty which stunned the prim old maid. Her heart gave a 
bound ; her eyes grew dim ; and it was an hour before she had composed 
herself sufficiently to read the agency's message of explanation. This letter 
was type written, and extended over several large sheets of paper. It 
began by saying that the original of the photograph would have the honor 
of paying his respects to Salina at her home on the day of the seventeenth. 
If he met with her approval, and everything was satisfactory, she could 
then forward to the bureau the small sum of twenty dollars, as final pay- 
ment. They expatiated on the trivial amount of their charge for thus 
arranging a happy marriage and a cheerful home, but explained : " We 
are not in the business for money, but because of the good we can 
do in lightening the burdens of just such forlorn, lonely creatures as you 
confided that you are. To produce such results is ample remuneration 
for all our labors." 

Salina was conscious of only one thing during the reading of the 
letter, and that was that, this being the sixteenth, "The Original," as she 
termed him, was due the next morning. She swept, scrubbed and dusted. 
She spread all her tidies over the horse-hair furniture in the parlor ; got 
out ancient bits of bric-a-brac and stood them around awkwardly. She 
brushed and sponged her best gray dress, and re-combed and curled the 
top piece of hair which was larger than a " front," yet smaller than an 
entire wig. 

The morning of the seventeenth, she arose before dawn. The night 
had been sleepless though not altogether disagreeable. She ate no break- 
fast, but drank three cups of hot, strong tea. The minutes were hours. 
Noon came ; still no " Original." Salina made more tea, and as she 
stood drinking it — she was too "upset " to sit down — she heard the gate 
rattle. Her cup dropped from nerveless fingers and smashed into bits. 



io7 

A knock came at the front door. She stood motionless ; another fierce 
pound, and she felt that her doom was sealed. She lifted one foot heavily, 
then the other, and so, dragged herself to the door. 

It was he. The same diamond sparkled on his expansive shirt front. 
He took off his hat with a full sweep, and said with a strong element of 
brazenness : 

" I am here by appointment, and I wish to communicate with Miss 
Gray." Salina swallowed hard. Her eyes fell, and in a voice that 
quivered, she said : "lam Miss Gray." 

" You Miss Gray? Who's this, then? " 

" The photograph and I are one and the same, but — that — was taken 
some time ago." Then she began to retreat into the house. She did not 
like his looks. 

The man was enraged. He had been taken in, and he intended to 
teach this woman a lesson which would protect his sex from such under- 
hand games in the future. So he advanced as she retreated. With 
gleaming eyes and clinching fists, he poured out a torrent of profane abuse 
and insulting epithets that were beyond anything Salina ever had heard. 
When he began to ridicule her vanished charms, her temper rose in self- 
justification. 

Suddenly she stopped still in her retreat. 

" You cur ! You poor, miserable hound ! You step out of this 
house, and you step out at once ! " Her voice was loud and command- 
ing. The man gave a swagger, but the woman held her ground. Slowly, 
inch by inch, the man yielded to Salina's advance. Her tongue flew in 
the expression of her thoughts, and her steps quickened as she felt herself 
mastering the situation. The man, appreciating her power, turned and 
fled, Salina after him. Around the hedge of currant bushes they ran. 
The man, unfamiliar with the lay of the land, missed the gate. Salina, 
out of breath with running, had ceased talking, and thus, in solemn 
silence, they ran and dodged and chased. 

It was at this moment that young Sam Johnson viewed the scene 
from the roadside, and flying home at the top of his speed, he shouted : 
" O, maw ! Miss Salina is playing peek-a-boo around the currant bushes 
with a man." 

The news ran through the village like wildfire. The whole sewing 
circle, of which Miss Salina was an honored member, gathered together, 
and presented itself at the Gray cottage. 

Miss Salina, calm and serene, met them at the door. "Walk right in 
and sit down," said she. " I'm just baking some drop cakes, so you'll 



io8 

have to excuse the looks of my kitchen. There's been a man here who 
kind of hindered me with my work. He was a house breaker." Miss 
Salina's conscience would not permit her to say thief. At once she 
became a heroine of strength and courage. 

The following week Deacon Haswell made Salina a formal offer of 
marriage. 

"A woman who can stand off a house breaker is the woman for me," 
he had said. 

The deacon was accepted. 



io9 



PAPA AND THE BOY. 

BY J. L. HARBOUR. 



(Printed by permission of the Author.) 

Charming as is the merry prattle of innocent childhood, it is not 
particularly agreeable at about one o'clock in the morning, when you are 
"dead for sleep," and wouldn't give a copper to hear even Gladstone 
himself talk. There are young and talkative children, who have no more 
regard for your feelings or for the proprieties of life than to open their 
peepers with a snap at one or two a. m., and seek to engage you in 
enlivening, dialogues of this sort : 

" Papa ! " 

You think you will pay no heed to the imperative little voice, hoping 
that silence on your part will keep the youngster quiet ; but again the 
boy of three pipes out sharply — 

" Papa ! " 

" Well? " you say. 

" You 'wake, papa? " 

"Yes." 

"So's me." 

" Yes, I hear that you are," you say with cold sarcasm. " What do 
you want?" 

" Oh, nuffin." 

"Well, lie still and go to sleep, then." 

" I isn't s'eepy papa." 

" Well, I am, young man." 

" Is you? I isn't — not a bit. Say, papa, papa .' " 

" Well." 

" If you was rich, what would you buy me? " 

"I don't know — go to sleep." 

"Wouldn't you buy me nuffin? " 

" I guess so ; now you " — 

"What, papa?" 

"Well, a steam engine, may be j now, you go right to sleep." 



no 

" With a bell that would ring, papa? " 

" Yes, yes ; now you " — 

"And would the wheels go wound, papa?" 

" Oh, yes (yawning). Shut your eyes now, and " — 

" And would it go choo, choo, choo, papa? " 

" Yes, yes ; now go to sleep ! " 

"Say, papa." 

No answer. 

"Papa /" 

" Well, what now? " 

" Is you 'faid of the dark? " 

"No " (drowsily). 

" I isn't either. Papa ! " 

"Well?" 

" If I was wich, I'd buy you somefin." 

"Would you?" 

" Yes ; I'd buy you some ice-cweam and some chocolum drops, and 
a toof brush, and panties wiv bwaid on like mine, and a candy wooster, 
and "— 

"That will do.' You must go to sleep, now." 

Silence for half a second ; then — 

" Papa — papa ! " 

"Well, what now?" 

" I want a jink." 

" No, you don't." 

"I do, papa." 

Experience has taught you that there will be no peace until you 
have brought the " jink," and you scurry out to the bathroom in the dark 
for it, knocking your shins against everything in the room as you go. 

" Now, I don't want to hear another word from you to-night," you 
say, as he gulps down a mouthful of the water he didn't want. Two min- 
utes later he says : — 

" Papa ! " 

" See here, laddie, papa will have to punish you if " — 

" I can spell ' dog ' papa." 

" Well, nobody wants to hear you spell it at two o'clock in the 
morning." 

" B-o-g — dog ; is that right? " 

" No, it is not ; but nobody cares if"— 

" Then it's < d-o-g,' isn't it? " 



Ill 

"Yes, yes ; now you lie right down and go to to sleep instantly ! " 

" Then I'll be a good boy, won't I?" 

" Yes, you'll be the best boy on earth. Good night dearie." 

" Papa ! " 

" Well, well ! What now ? " 

" Is I your little boy?" 

" Yes, yes ; of course." 

" Some man's haven't got any little boys ; but you have, haven't you ? " 

" Yes." 

" Don't you wish you had two, free, nine, 'leben, twenty-six, ninety- 
ten, free-hundred little boys? " 

The mere possibility of such a remote and contingent calamity so 
paralyzes you that you lie speechless for ten minutes, during which you 
hear a yawn or two in the little bed by your side, a little figure rolls over 
three or four times, a pair of heels fly into the air once or twice, a warm, 
moist little hand reaches out and touches your face to make sure you are 
there, and the boy is asleep, with his heels where his head ought to be. 






THEN AG'IN. 

BY S. W. FOSS. 



(Printed by permission of Lee & Shepard, Publishers.) 

Jim Bowker, he said ef he'd had a fair show, 
And a big enough town for his talents to grow, 
And the least bit assistance in hoein' his row, 

Jim Bowker, he said, 
He'd filled the world full of the sound of his name, 
An' dim the top round in the ladder of fame ; 

It may have been so ; 
I dunno ; 

Jest so it might been, 
Then ag'in — 

But he had tarnal luck — everythin' went ag'in him, 

The arrers er fortune they alius 'ud pin him ; 

So he didn't get no chance to show off what was in him, 

Jim Bowker, he said, 
Ef he'd had a fair show, you couldn't tell where he'd come, 
An' the feats he'd a-done, and the heights he'd a-clumb — 

It may have been so ; 
I dunno ; 

Jest so it might been, 
Then ag'in — 

But we're all like Jim Bowker, thinks I, more or less — 
Charge fate for our bad luck, ourselves for success, 
An' give fortune the blame for all our distress, 

As Jim Bowker, he said. 
If it hadn't been for luck and misfortune an' sich, 
We might a-been famous, an' might a-been rich, 

It might be jest so ; 
I dunno; 

Jest so it might been, 
Then ag'in — 



H3 



THE LITTLE TIN TRUMPET. 

BY JAMES WORKMAN. 



(Printed by permission of Strand Magazine.) 

Archie Campbell stood in the small, dingy, ill-furnished room in 
which his little son lay asleep, looking wistfully at the tiny, pale face, 
framed in a tangle of crisp yellow curls. By the dim light of the candle 
it looked pinched and wan, except for an ominous flush on one of the 
thin cheeks. Archie's lips shut tight to stifle a groan, and he turned 
hurriedly away. As he did so he caught sight of a little stocking hanging 
at the foot of the bed. It was Christmas Eve, and the sight shot a pang 
through his heart. 

The child stirred uneasily in his sleep. 

" Is that you, daddie?" 

" Yes, little one." 

" Oh, I thought it was Santa Claus. I'm ever so tired and sleepy, 
but I've been tryin' as hard as ever I could to keep awake, 'cos I wanted 
to ask him to give me a little trumpet. I want a trumpet ever so much 
more than any thin' else. You don't think he'd be cross if I asked him 
for one — a very little one — do you, daddie? " 

" No, I don't suppose he would." 

" He's almost very nearly sure to have trumpets, isn't he? " 

" Oh, yes, he often has trumpets, and drums, and swords, and 
things." 

" And if he had, he'd give me one — just a little one — if I was very, 
very polite to him, wouldn't he?" 

Haunted by a sick child's feverish craving for something he has set 
his heart on, Tommy sat up in bed, with crimson cheeks and glittering 
eyes. 

" Yes, yes, of course he would." 

" But suppose that, just for this once, he didn't come, you'd be a 
plucky little chap — wouldn't you, Tommy? You wouldn't cry and make 
yourself ill — would you? " 

" S'pose he didn't come? Do you mean, didn't come at all, 
daddie?" 



n 4 

" There, there, don't cry, little man. Cheer up, old fellow. I think 
he'll come — I'm sure he will, I am really. But you must go to sleep, 
or perhaps he won't. He knows just what little boys and girls want 
without being told, and if he has any trumpets he'll be quite sure to give 
you one. Besides, he doesn't like to find little children awake, so you 
must close your eyes and keep quite still, and you'll be asleep in no time. 
Good-night, little man." 

Archie came out and closed the door softly behind him. 

"To think that I haven't got so much as a copper to buy him some 
cheap little plaything or two and a few sweets ; and — and perhaps it's 
the last Christmas he'll be here. Poor little chap, he gets thinner and 
weaker every day. Oh, I must get him something, I will get him some- 
thing, if I have to " 

He stopped abruptly and glanced furtively round. Then snatching 
up his hat and buttoning his threadbare coat, he stepped hurriedly into 
the street. 

Eight or nine months before, the sudden collapse of an Australian 
bank, in which his whole fortune was invested, had reduced him from inde- 
pendence to abject poverty. Since then he had drifted to London, and 
had been straining every nerve to scrape together the few shillings that 
would provide himself and his little boy with food and lodging. 

As he walked hastily along the crowded streets, shivering in his 
threadbare clothes and faint with hunger, there was an almost wolfish glit- 
ter in his eyes as he glared through the' shop windows at the food or jewels, 
that lay within arm's length of his twitching fingers. Indeed, he looked 
so gaunt and desperate, that well-dressed passers-by avoided him, and 
policemen eyed him suspiciously. 

In his college days he had cherished literary ambitions, but a com- 
fortable income and an early marriage had turned his thoughts into other 
.channels, and since his wife's death the care of his little boy seemed to 
have absorbed his whole time and attention. When the bank collapsed 
he turned instinctively to the only profession that seemed to require no 
special course of training, but the stories and articles he wrote with 
feverish haste had so far been invariably rejected. The editor of the 
Weekly Mirror had alone betrayed any interest in his work ; and though 
he had politely declined Archie's contributions, had nevertheless given 
him a few kindly words of encouragement when he ventured to call at the 
office. 

Knowing the editor's private address in a distant suburb, Archie deter- 
mined, as a last resource, to go there and implore him for an advance of 






n5 

a sovereign or two, or even a few shillings. In return he was willing to 
pledge himself to any kind of employment, however distasteful or labori- 
ous. If the editor believed him incapable of writing satisfactory articles, 
he would cheerfully undertake to light fires, to sweep out the offices, to 
carry coals, or clean windows. It comforted him a little to enumerate all 
the menial things he was prepared to do in exchange for a trifling loan, 
but in his heart he knew that for the first time in his life he was going to 
beg for charity from a comparative stranger, and he turned sick with 
shame at the thought. 

Tommy's wasting figure and pinched white face goaded him on, or 
he would have turned back again and again. As he had to tramp every 
foot of the way, and was growing weak from want of food, it was verging 
on midnight before he reached the house, a semi-detached villa. 
Archie groaned as he glanced up at the windows. Not a light was 
visible. Every soul in the house was probably asleep. He leant against 
the railings sick at heart with disappointment, exhausted with hunger and 
fatigue, and aching in every limb. How could anyone, on such an errand 
as his, drag out of bed at midnight a man he had seen only once before 
in his life? He would certainly meet with nothing but insults if he did. 

He was turning away, when it occurred to him that there -might 
possibly be a light in one of the side windows which were invisible from 
the road. Entering the garden, he stepped noiselessly along an asphalt 
path. Presently he stopped in front of a large window on the ground 
floor, illumined by a dim, flickering light within. Approaching a little 
nearer, he could see through the partially drawn curtains that a fire was 
still burning in the grate. 

As he peered in, a fragment of coal dropped into the white-hot 
centre of the fire and, bursting into flame, illuminated the whole interior 
of the room. Archie started and rubbed his eyes. Could he be dream- 
ing? Had he grown light-headed with hunger, or were those really toys 
that lay on the table? The flame died down and the objects on the 
table grew barely perceptible, but he could have sworn that he had seen 
a doll's house, a humming top, a cocked hat with white plumes, a drum, 
a sword, and above all, a little tin trumpet. 

His heart began to beat furiously, and he turned his head with a 
furtive sidelong glance in the direction of the road. Not a soul was 
visible. He listened intently, and could hear nothing but the distant 
rumbling of a cab. He turned again to the window. The room was still 
dark, but he fancied he could distinguish the little tin trumpet glimmer- 
ing in the dim light. He put out his hand toward the window-sash, and 



n6 

then suddenly twisting on his heel walked hurriedly away. As he did so, 
there rose up before him a vision of a little pale face with tear-filled eyes 
and quivering lips gazing wistfully into an empty stocking. He threw up 
his hands with a despairing gesture and turned back again. For several 
minutes he stood before the window, listening and glancing uneasily 
around him, and then, as if moved by a sudden, overmastering im- 
pulse, placed his hands on the sash and raised it, and in another 
•moment he was inside the room. He mechanically closed the window 
behind him, and going straight to the table, took up the trumpet and 
carried it to the fire. It was quite new and glittered bravely in the fire- 
light. To the scarlet cord a scrap of paper was pinned, on which was 
written : " To Johnnie, from his affectionate Aunt Bertha." He tore off 
the paper, and thrust the trumpet into the inner breastpocket of his 
coat. 

Then he crouched down by the fire to warm his numbed hands. 
Presently he gave the fire a gentle poke, the poker made a slight noise. 

"Who's there?" 

Archie leapt to his feet, white and trembling. He was too dazed 
and bewildered to decide on immediate flight, but shrank instinctively 
behind the heavy baize curtain near the window. Cold sweat stood on 
his forehead, and he was quaking in every limb. 

"Who's there?" 

"Papa," called out another voice, ." What is it? Is there someone 
in the house? " 

" Hush — keep quiet — I don't know. I thought I heard someone, 
but perhaps I was mistaken." 

There was a few moments' silence, and then Archie heard the door 
creak faintly, and peering round the edge of the curtain saw a dim figure 
stealing cautiously into the room. 

" Is there anyone here? " 

The man advanced slowly towards the chandelier. 

" I'm going to light the gas, and I warn you that I have a revolver 
in my hand, and that if you attack me while I am doing so, I'll shoot you 
without a moment's hesitation." 

The words were followed by the hurried striking of a match, and 
Archie, turning panic stricken to the window, made an ineffectual attempt 
to open it. The gas flared up and a peremptory voice exclaimed : 

" You are hiding behind that curtain. Come out, or I'll fire." 

Livid with shame and fear, Archie stepped forward to find himself 
confronted by the muzzle of a revolver held in the outstretched hand of a 



ii7 

tall bearded man standing on the hearth-rug. It was David Grant, the 
editor of the Weekly Mirror. 

" Oh, it's you — is it? Happy to meet you again, I'm sure. So this 
is your highly respectable calling — is it? and you merely dabble in litera- 
ture in your leisure moments — eh? " 

Archie tried to speak, to explain, but his tongue seemed paralyzed, 
and the words died on his lips. 

" Papa, what is it ! I thought I heard you speaking. Is there 
really someone here?" 

" You can come in, Bertha ; it's only a burglar, a real live one, but 
quite harmless." 

A pretty girl of about eighteen, attired in a dainty dressing-gown, 
stepped timidly in, and gazed with wide, frightened eyes at Archie's white 
face and shrinking figure. 

" This young gentleman and I, have met before. In his leisure 
moments he devotes himself to literature, and he has done me the 
honour of wishing to contribute to the Mirror. Unfortunately I was 
compelled to decline his contributions, which were not pictures of life, 
but impossible psychological romances evolved from his inner conscious- 
ness. It never seems to have occurred to him that if he had given a vivid 
description of — shall I say? — his professional experiences, his manuscript 
might have met with a very different reception. However, during his 
temporary retirement from the active duties of his profession — which is 
likely to prove the result of this delightful interview — he may possibly 
secure an opportunity of using his pen to greater advantage, and I may 
have the pleasure of accepting a really live article, entitled ' The Experi- 
ences of a Professional Burglar.' " 

During this speech, Archie stood with bent head, white face, and 
quivering lips. 

" In the meantime, you have probably filled your pockets with my 
spoons and forks. Now, I like to encourage energetic young men, and it 
grieves me to interfere with your business arrangements, but I must re- 
luctantly request you to hand them back again." 

Archie took out the little tin trumpet and laid it on the table. 

" I took nothing but that, I didn't intend to take anything else." 

" Come, come, my good fellow, if you must tell lies — they ought 
at least to be moderately plausible ones. Do you expect me to believe 
this? " 

" No, I don't." 

" I'm glad to hear it. Bertha, my dear, you'll find a policeman's 



n8 

whistle in the drawer of the hat-stand. Open the front door and blow it 
as hard as you can." 

" Oh, papa, won't you forgive him? I — I'm sure he's speaking 
the truth. Won't you give him one more chance? " 

Archie looked up at the sound of the girl's pleading voice. A glim- 
mer of hope lit up his haggard face. Surely, if he told them all, they 
would believe him, would pity and forgive him. Words rushed to his lips, 
and despair made him eloquent. 

As they listened to his pitiful story, they saw, as though they had 
actually stood beside him in the dingy, ill-furnished room, the thin, wist- 
ful face of the little boy, and the tiny stocking hanging forlornly at the 
foot of the bed. They saw him dragging his tired limbs along the endless 
streets, felt the pang of disappointment with which he glanced up at the 
dark and silent house, and looking with him through the window beheld 
the trumpet glittering in the firelight. From that moment the tawdry 
little toy seemed no longer inadequate to account for his presence there, 
and when he concluded he found Bertha in tears, and her father regarding 
him with an almost friendly expression. 

" You will forgive him, won't you, papa? " 

" I'll tell you what I'll do ; I'll give you one more chance. Sit 
down at that desk and write an account of your night's adventure and all 
that led up to it. Make it brief, humorous, pathetic, and picturesque. If 
it's marketable, I'll accept it and pay you for it. What's more, I'll let 
you go, because there'll be a chance of your earning an honest livelihood. 
But if you can't make marketable copy out of such an experience as this, 
you're a hopeless case, and the best thing I can do for you and the public 
is to hand you over to the police. Sit down." 

Archie sat down despondently. His brain refused to work. Again 
and again the ink dried on the pen. Not a word would come. 

" Come. I can't wait all night. I'll give you another ten min- 
utes, and if you're not making headway by then, I shall get Bertha to 
blow the whistle." 

Archie groaned, and buried his pale face in his hands. His brain 
seemed incapable of evolving a single coherent sentence. Then suddenly 
through the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of the little tin trumpet. 
It suggested what struck him as an appropriate title for his narrative, and 
he wrote it down. Then half unconsciously to himself his pen traced a few 
words of the conversation which had taken place between himself and 
Tommy, and a moment later his eyes sparkled, his cheeks flushed and he 
was writing page after page without effort or hesitation, and with a com- 



ii 9 

mand of appropriate language, with touches of mingled humor and pathos 
that subsequently amazed him. 

When at length he stopped he looked bewildered, like a man 
suddenly awakened out of a dream. Without a word he handed the 
manuscript to Grant, and waited hopelessly for his verdict. 

Grant read it through without comment, then cleared his throat. 

" Well, what do you think of it yourself? " 

" It's no use, I shall never do any good." 

" Cheer up, my lad. You're wrong this time. I always thought you 
had it in you. The stuff's first-rate — as good stuff as I've had for many a 
day. I'll take it and pay you for it." 

Archie looked up, stupefied with astonishment. Grant was smiling 
down at him, and there were tears in Bertha's soft brown eyes. 

" Oh, yes, I mean it. You'll do ; with a little coaching you'll do 
very well. At any rate, you'll never succeed as a burglar. In the mean- 
time I can't find it in my heart to deprive you of the proceeds of your 
first and probably your last appearance in that fascinating character ; and 
so you'll greatly oblige me if you'll put that trumpet back in your pocket. 
Pooh, don't hesitate, man. Bertha intended it for a present to a little 
scapegrace of a nephew of hers who is going to dine with us to-morrow. 
He'll be quite as well pleased with a shilling or two to spend in any way 
he chooses. Now, I daresay you'd prefer cash to a cheque? I thought 
so. Well, I'll see if I can scrape a few coins together while Bertha gets 
you something to eat. What do you say ? Couldn't think of troubling us? 
What rubbish. Sit down this instant, or as sure as you're born I'll get 
out that whistle and give you in charge before you know where you are." 

Tommy shouted with delight when he awoke the next morning to 
find his stocking bulkier than usual, and on the top of all the fine things it 
contained the desire of his heart, a trumpet. He couldn't imagine how 
Santa Claus had guessed that it was just the one thing he wanted above 
all others. 

Archie is now a thriving journalist, but if you could look into a cer- 
tain carefully-locked drawer you would find a photograph of a pretty girl 
with soft brown eyes, and close beside it — battered, bent and almost 
unrecognizable — the little tin trumpet. 



120 



JIMMY BROWN. 



BY W. L. ALDEN. 



Jimmy Brown was a little boy who always tried to do the very best 
he could, yet was constantly getting into trouble. 

The following is an account of his little trouble with Mr. Marten as 
recited by himself. 



Oh ! we've been having a dreadful time at our house, and I have 
done very wrong. Oh, I always admit it when I've done wrong. There's 
nothing meaner than to pretend that you haven't done wrong when every- 
body knows that you have. It all happened last Tuesday night. Just as 
it was getting dark ; this was the way it happened. 

I was playing Indian in the yard, and I was playing it was snowing. 
I do love snow, there isn't anything except a rat-terrier that is as beauti- 
ful as snow. 

Mr. Travers (that Sue's beau), he says that seven hundred men once 
wrote a poem and called it " Beautiful Snow,'' and that even then, though 
they were all big, strong men, they couldn't find words enough to tell how 
beautiful it was. 

Well, I was playing it was snowing, and I was an Indian, and I had a 
wooden tomahawk and a wooden scalping-knife and a bownarrow. I was 
dressed up in father's old coat turned inside out, and had six chicken 
feathers in my hair. I was playing I was Green Thunder, the Delaware 
chief, and was hunting for pale-faces in the yard. It was just after sup- 
per, and I was having a real nice time, when Mr. Travers came, and he 
said, "Jimmy, what are you up to now?" So I told him I was Green 
Thunder, and was on the war-path. Said he, " Jimmy, I think I saw Mr. 
Martin on his way here. Do you think you would mind scalping him?" 
I said I wouldn't scalp him for nothing, for that would be cruelty ; but if 
Mr. Travers was sure that Mr. Martin was the enemy of the red man, 
then Green Thunder's heart would ache for revenge, and I would scalp 
him with pleasure. Mr. Travers said that Mr. Martin was a notorious 



enemy and oppressor of the Indians, and he gave me ten cents, and said 
that as soon as Mr. Martin should come and was sitting comfortably on 
the piazza, I was to give the warwhoop and scalp him. 

Well, in a few minutes Mr. Martin came, and he and Mr. Travers and 
Susan sat on the piazza, and talked as if they were all so pleased to see 
each other, which was the highest pocracy in the world. After a while 
Mr. Martin saw me, and said, " How silly boys are ! that boy makes 
believe he's an Indian, and he knows he's only a little nuisance." Now 
this made me mad, and I thought I would give him a good scare, just to 
teach him not to call names if a fellow does beat him in a fair game. So 
I began to steal softly up the piazza steps, and to get around behind him. 
When I got about six feet from him I gave a warwhoop, and jumped at 
him. I caught hold of his scalp-lock with one hand, and drew my 
wooden scalping-knife around his head with the other. 

I never got such a fright in my whole life. The knife was that dull 
that it wouldn't cut butter ; but, true as I sit here, Mr. Martin's whole 
scalp came right off in my hand. I thought I had killed him, and I 
dropped his scalp, and said, " For mercy's sake ! I didn't go to do it, and 
I'm awful sorry." But he just caught up his scalp, stuffed it in his pocket, 
and jammed his hat on his head, and walked off, saying to Susan, " I 
didn't come here to be insulted by a little wretch that deserves the gal- 
lows." 

Mr. Travers and Susan never said a word until he had gone, and 
then they laughed until the noise brought father out to ask what was the 
matter. When he heard what had happened, he said, " My son, you may 
come up-stairs with me." 

But then — what is the use saying anything more about it ; it's all over 
now — but if any of you have ever been a boy, you know what happened 
up-stairs. 



(From " Adventures of Jimmy Brown." Copyright 1885, by Harper & Brothers.) 



WAIKIKI." 



BY ROLLIN M. DAGGETT 



(Dedicated to " Waikiki," the favorite sea-side resort of Honolulu. Presented by the author 1882.) 

The cocoa, with its crest of spears, 

Stands sentry 'round the crescent shore, 
And algaroba, bent with years, 

Keeps watch beside the lanai door. 
The cool winds fan the mango's cheek. 

The mynah flits from tree to tree, 
And zephyrs to the roses speak 

Their sweetest words at Waikiki. 

Like truant children of the deep 

Escaped behind a coral wall, 
The lisping wavelets laugh and leap, 

Nor heed old ocean's stern recall, 
All day they frolic with the sands, 

Kiss pink-lipped shells in wanton glee, 
Make windrows with their patting hands, 

And, singing, sleep at Waikiki. 

The closing curtain of the night 

Is shading down the gold to gray, 
And on the reef the flaring light 

Of brown-armed fishers, far away, 
Dyes red the waves that thunder by 

The sturdy bulwarks of the sea, 
And breaking into riplets, die 

Upon the breast of Waikiki. 

Now come wild echoes through the air 

And shadow of a rugged face, 
With iron limbs and shoulders bare — 

The chieftnin of a duskv race 



123 

Whose hostile front, with lifted lance, 
And war-proas flecking all the sea 

Swept through the palms with bold advance 
Along the shores of Waikiki. 

And all unchecked in martial course 

By menace or the spear of foe, 
The misty columns move in force, 

Their chieftain leading as they go, 
Up, up M'uuanu's rocky bed 

Till, looking down through clouds, they see 
The beetling front of Diamond Head 

And silver sands of Waikiki. 

On ! on ! the foe has reached the verge, 

And o'er the Pali's awful side, 
With shout and stroke and battle-surge 

Is poured a shrieking human tide. 
Then all is still ; the work is done, 

And thus the shadows come to me 
When twilight clouds, kissed by the sun, 

Have bronzed the shores of Waikiki. 

And then, with tropic murmurs blent, 

Come distant voices half divine, 
While mingled with the Ylangylang's scent 

Is breath of sage and mountain pine ; 
And from Diablo's vine-clad feet, 

From desert bleak and green Maumee 
Are wafted strains to me as sweet 

As e'er were heard at Waikiki. 

O Waikiki ! O scene of peace ! 

O home of beauty and of dreams ! 
No haven in the isles of Greece 

Can chord the harp to sweeter themes ; 
For houris haunt the broad lanais, 

While scented zephyrs cool the lea, 
And, looking down from sunset skies. 

The angels smile on Waikiki. 



124 



THE STRANDED SHIP. 

BY L. CLARKE DAVIS. 



Arranged by Sara Lord Bailey. 



(Printed by permission of G. P. Putnam's Sons, Publishers.) 

Luke Connor was an outcast from society. When he was graduated 
from Harvard all blessings of life seemed his : Abundant means, superb 
physical health and hosts of friends. But the very night of commence- 
ment a letter was handed him, telling him that his sister had died con- 
fessing an awful wrong, and the man who had wrought this wrong was his 
friend and classmate. That was the bitter part of it all — his friend. 
Stunned, maddened by the shock, he pursued and killed the man, and 
flung him headlong into the rising tide. Then the boy, whose work was 
done, but whose boyhood had slipped away forever, gave himself up to 
justice, expecting and desiring death. The jury acquitted him, and he 
left the country. 

After remaining abroad several years he returned, and was spending 
a few weeks at a beach on the Jersey coast. Here he met Professor 
Daunton, one of his college professors. One morning at the break of 
day the people at the old farmhouse were awakened from sleep by the 
discharge of a solitary gun, so near and distinct that it startled the sleepers 
from their beds. It was followed by a second report, and by others. 
There was hurried dressing and a quick tramp to the sea, for the slow 
booming gun told of life to be saved — men and horses thundered along 
the hard beach with the life-boats on their carriages surrounded by yell- 
ing wreckers, grim and alert. The horses flew along, untouched by whip, 
as if they knew the necessity for speed. But when the wreckers arrived 
opposite the stranded ship, against which the waves thumped mercilessly, 
there fell a dead silence among them all. They looked towards the 
monster wreck and then into each other's faces, hopeless, dismayed — no 
boat could live on such a sea. 

The ship had come on broadside to the sand, and was strained 






125 

badly. She still held together above decks, but showed an ugly break in 
her hull amidship. The women who had husbands stood about the boats 
on which the men sat, entreating and forbidding them to venture out. 

" Is there no hope for these poor people, Captain Brown? " said a 
woman. " You can do something ; do not let them go down into the sea 
before our eyes without making a single effort, Captain ! " 

" It's no use ; she's doomed, that ship is ; and she'll go down before 
our eyes, and we can't help 'em." 

" I'm not a strong man, Captain Brown," said the Professor, " but I 
was accounted a good stroke once in the Cambridge crew, and I would 
like to make one of a party to attempt the rescue of those people 
there." 

" You would? Then by the good Lord, Professor, I'll make another ! 
Hello, men ! Who'll volunteer to go out there with a line to that ship? 
It's a desprit service, but Professor Daunton is going, and I am going ; 
and now who else'll go? Good for you, Bill Shadrick ! Good for you, 
Tom Hempill ! You're men, you are ! Now some more of you as hain't 
got anybody at home. Who's the next man to go into the boat? " 

Two others instantly volunteered, and despite the cries of children 
and wives, the men leaped into the boat, and each one with a last look 
shoreward, quietly poised his oar in the air, stiffened himself in his place, 
and sat solemnly watching the mountainous wave over which he was to 
be hurled. 

Half a hundred brawny hands seized the boat and tried to launch 
her, unsuccessfully at first, but on the fourth trial she plunged into the 
breakers, and in the next moment she was thrown high and dry upon the 
beach, smashed like an egg-shell, her crew all safe but a good deal bruised 
and hurt. 

" 1 told you it was no use. I know a sea when I see it, and I 
knowed no boat could live a minute out there." 

" What chance, Captain? " 

It was a pleasant voice that had asked the question. The old man 
looked up at the graceful figure of the speaker on horseback. 

" Captain Connor, there is no chance for them poor souls on that 
wreck. Only God and a miracle will let them see home again." 

" Only God and a miracle? " 

"Yes, just that ! " 

" Have you tried the boat? " 

" Does that look as if we had tried the boat? " 

" Very much like it, Captain Brown ; but are there no more volun- 



126 

teers? My men, you know me; I will give a thousand dollars to every 
man who lends a hand to carry a line to that ship." A dead silence 
among the men, dark scowls among the women. 

"What! no answer? You want more? Well, you shall have it. 
Any six of you stand out there and name your price. Don't be afraid 
I'll pay it down." 

No man stirred ; the women crept closer to their husbands, glaring 
savagely at Connor. 

" You wont go ? Why, you cowards ! Are you afraid of a bit of 
dirty water or some salt spray washing over you ? Will nothing tempt you ? " 

" We are not cowards, Captain Connor, but no boat can live out 
there — it has been tried," a wrecker said doggedly. 

" Try it again, you cowards ! You have been upon the sea all your 
miserable lives and yet not a man of you will stir." 

The bitter words were scarcely uttered, when a gaunt old fish-wife, 
her arms bared to the elbow, her face as brown as the dead kelp, seized 
his bridle, and with a quick jerk threw his horse back on his haunches. 
" Cowards are we? Then what are you? What are you coming here to 
tempt to their certain death these men with children and wives ? Why 
don't you go yourself? What is your dirty money to you? You never 
worked in storm, in sleet and hail and snow, for a dollar a day saving 
human lives ! Go carry a line to the ship yourself. Save your filthy 
bribes, you murderer, and earn the right to call our sons and husbands 
cowards ! Go yourself! " 

When the word murderer escaped her lips his cheeks blanched, and 
he grew dizzy for a moment, but recovering himself, he leaned forward 
in his saddle. 

" My friends, I was wrong and this good wife is right. I will carry 
a line to the ship." 

Something she saw in the calm, solemn eyes of Luke Connor told her 
that he meant to do it, and it chilled the blood in her heart. The old 
woman stared hard into the man's face. 

" You ! You carry a line to yon poor wretches ? It can't be done, 
Captain Luke. It can't be done, I tell you. I didn't mean to be rough 
and to make you do a mad thing like that. You can't save 'em, Captain 
Luke. Only God can do that ! " 

" Then under God I will do it ! " 

She turned fiercely upon the wreckers. "Do you mean to let him 
throw his life away before your eyes ? If you do, you're greater cowards 
than he called you just now ! " 



127 

Luke leaped from his horse. " Captain Brown, I propose to carry a 
line to yonder ship. You said a while ago that only God and a miracle 
could save those poor people there." 

''Yes, I didsay that." 

" Well, Captain, is not your God as strong and able to help His 
people today as He was eighteen hundred years ago? " 

"This ain't the time of miracles, Captain Luke. Now look for your- 
self: Can you carry a line out yonder — can any man do it? " 

Luke Connor deliberately surveyed the prospect before him ; he saw 
all the danger, all the necessity, too, and felt how desperate the chances 
really were. " I can try. The most of the danger lies there in that first 
breaker ; there is some in the second, and less in the third. If I could 
pass the three lines of breakers the tide would favor me, and I could 
almost feel certain of success. Will you help me? " 

" It's no use, Captain Luke ; it aren't in mortal power to do it." 

" I am only one man, and there are at least a hundred on that ship. 
She cannot last much longer with that sea hammering the life out o£ her 
at every stroke." 

An awful, piercing cry went up from the wreck, drowning the beat of 
the waves and the roar of the wind The vessel had parted amidship, 
and men and women were struggling in the sea, clinging desperately to 
fragments of the wreck. 

The old wrecking master gave a single glance at the new and eminent 
danger, and then said : " I'll help you ; there's not a man here as won't 
help you. If you don't come back — an' God help you will — I'd like to 
stand near you up there. And now are you ready? " 

" All ready, Captain ! " 

The old wrecking master securely fastened the thin, strong cord 
about his shoulders and under his arms. The naked figure of the man 
gleamed white and solid ; the knotted muscles stood up about the arms 
and thighs and breast in hard, steely bunches. Luke looked death in 
the face squarely and did not falter ; but as the mountainous wave rolled 
in foaming and hungry, he murmured, " God have mercy on me, a 
sinner ! " 

The thundering wave reared its awful crest and poised itself for the 
break upon the shore. He sprang forward, plunging headlong under it. 
Then the men about the ropes stood ready to receive again his body with 
life or without it. With terror in their faces they turned to watch the line 
that slowly began to glide through the master's fingers. For a moment 
they all stood silently watching coil after coil glide away ; then the master 



128 

looked up, his lips white, his hands trembling. " Thank God, mates ! he 
has passed the first breaker ! " 

He had; and he prepared himself for the next one. He saw it 
sweeping down upon him with a mighty surge and roar, but before it 
could reach him he was down again beneath it, and in the undertow of 
the second breaker, going rapidly out to sea. 

The people stood looking out among the waves with anxious, hope- 
less eyes. The third breaker had passed harmlessly over him, but 
between him and the ship there was yet nearly a quarter of a mile of mad, 
turbulent sea, rolling and heaving before the wind, on which he was 
tossed like a cork. On each wave he rose and fell, now going ahead, 
now losing in one moment more than he had gained in three ; yet on the 
whole surely lessening the distance between him and the ship, for the tide 
carried him forward. The minutes seemed to have crept into hours, 
hours into days. 

" What is it, Captain Brown? What is it that is wrong? " 
," Nothing ; but more nor an hour is gone, and we should a drawed 
in afore now." 

A frightened whisper went through the crowd and killed every par- 
ticle of hope within them. 

" There be a dead man or shark at t'other end of that line ! " 

Suddenly the old fisher-wife started up from among them, her hand 
tossing back her hair from her eyes, her right arm stretched straight out 
before her, her voice ringing. " No, no, no ! you mistake ! See there ; 
see there ! Look at the ship, and thank God ! Oh, thank God, all of 
you ! " 

They turned their eyes and they saw a man dragged up fromg among 
the jib-chains of the wrecked ship. They saw him mount to the deck, 
and heard the passengers and crew shout out their joyful cry of deliver- 
ance. 

" Now, then," the old captain yelled, " can't you men raise a single 
cheer for the brave fellow as saved a hundred lives? " 

No, they could not. The old captain could not do it himself. 
Their sudden gladness choked them. But the moment gone, they 
shouted till they were hoarse, and then all of them went to work. Away 
spun the line, away and away, until the last strong cable of all was made 
fast to the ship, drawn taut, and then along spun the life-car with a couple 
of brave fellows in it to the wreck. In five minutes it was back again on 
shore. The sturdy wreckers worked with a will, and dragged the life-car 
to and from the ship until every man, woman and child were landed. 



129 

When the last load came ashore everyone crowded down as near to 
the sea as they could get, wanting to welcome their hero among them 
again. 

When he landed what a shout they sent up ! The rescued drew near 
to him, craving only to touch the man Luke Connor who had delivered a 
hundred lives from the jaws of death. 

And among them the man whom he thought he had killed and 
flung off Dunlethe's wharf, long ago — and Luke Connor feeling as if God 
himself stood somewhere near — said under his breath, " God, I thank 
Thee for this." 



130 



PUTTING THE BABY TO SLEEP. 



KY J. L. HARBOUR. 



(By permission of the Author.) 

Did you ever try to get a baby to sleep ? A real, lively, rollicking 
rascal of a baby who doesn't intend snoozing away any more of his valu- 
able time than he has to. 

There have been evenings, I dare say, when the pleasure of putting 
baby to sleep has been yours. 

Perhaps, if it is a first experience, you are rather glad of the chance 
to convince your wife that she has fallen into the habit of wasting a deal 
■of time in getting that youngster to sleep evenings. You have always 
felt and said that you could get him to sleep in a fourth of the time your 
wife spends. All is required is a little firmness. The baby wants to 
.simply be made to understand that it is bedtime and that he must go to 
sleep. That is your theory, and now you'll put it into practice. 

Well, mamma departs, and you take baby, robed in his little white 
" nighty " — the nearest thing to an angel there is on this earth. 

You pick him up and say fondly, but firmly : 

"Now papa's little baby boy must go right to sleep." 

*' Now, baby, shut his little eyes." 

" Goo, goo," he says, with his eyes wide open. 

" Baby, papa wants to read his paper and baby must go to sleep." 

If ever a baby said " I won't do it" with his heels, your's says it 
about this time, for the way he lets his little pink heels fly into the air 
means nothing less than a distinct and positive " I won't." 

You then hold him firmly in your arms, and he begins to squirm. 
He writhes and wriggles with unexpected strength and pluckily contends 
for freedom, until you let him go through sheer admiration of his grit. 

" Goo, goo," he says. 

" Baby, dear," you say plaintively, " won't papa's baby go to sleep 
now — that's a good baby." 



i3i 

Then the good baby manifests his intention of getting down and 
crawling all over the floor. Foiled in this, he concludes to crawl all over 
you. His little fingers clutch your beard and you haven't the heart to 
shake him off, not even when he pulls so hard that your eyes are full of 
tears. Then he pokes his fingers into your nose, eyes and ears, giving the 
result of his investigations in a series of gurgling "goo-goos," indicating 
that he is as wide-awake as he ever was in his life, and he thinks he can 
hold out three or four hours yet. You haul him down into your arms and 
say : 

" Now, if baby don't go right to sleep, papa will have to whip. 
Shall papa whip baby?" 

The "goo-goo" he now screeches out means, "Do so at you own 
risk." Whip him ! There is more or less of the brute in every man, but 
you inwardly thank God that your brutal tendencies don't run in the 
direction of pounding babies. 

You simply cuddle him up in your arms and begin rocking him to 
and fro in such a manner that he couldn't go to sleep if he wanted to, no 
more than you could if lashed to a trip-hammer. Then you sing every- 
thing you know, from " Rock of Ages " down to " Annie Rooney," all in 
one key, for, ten to one, you can't sing a note correctly to save your life. 

This concert lasts an hour and a half and baby lives through it all 
and has vitality enough to pop up at the close of it with a cheery : 

" Ya, ya ! Goo, goo ! " 

Then you shake him a little and say : 

" Now, young man, I've had just about enough of this. You've 
simply got to go to sleep ! Go to sleep ! " 

Now you've made him cry. He slips limply down into your arms 
and opens his mouth in one prolonged yell, followed by another and 
another until he has emitted about a thousand of them. You walk the 
floor with him ; you jounce him up and down ; you coax and wheedle 
and scold and fume. 

Bye-and-by his cries grow weaker and fewer ; you feel his little form 
relaxing in your arms, his little limbs hang limply, his curly head lies 
heavily on your shoulder, his eyelids droop slowly, and, with that most 
pitiful of sounds, the sobbing of a child in its sleep, the little fellow wan- 
ders into dreamland. You are free to lay him down now and take up 
your book or your paper, but you don't always do it. You simply sit 
down gently with the baby still in your arms and your eyes fixed on his 
flushed little face. 



132 

There you sit for an hour, may be, looking into the face of the 
troublesome little bit of humanity in your arms, a treasure for which you 
would lay down your life. 

P. S. — I forgot to say that after you have very carefully laid him 
down and crawled away from his cradle on your hands and knees so as 
not to awaken him, you are paralyzed by a loud and distinct " Ya ! ya ! 
ya/" and you have to do it all over again. 



133 



THE AUCTIONEER'S GIFT 



BY S. W. FOSS. 



(By permission of Lee & Shepard.) 

The auctioneer leaped on a chair, and bold and loud and clear, 
He poured his cataract of words, just like an auctioneer. 
An auction sale of furniture, where some hard mortgagee 
Was bound to get his money back, and pay his lawyer's fee. 

A humorist of wide renown, this doughty auctioneer, 
His joking raised the loud guffaw, and brought the answering jeer, 
He scattered round his jests, like rain, on the unjust and the just ; 
Sam Sleeman said he " laffed so much he thought that he would bust." 

He knocked down bureaus, beds, and stoves, and clocks and chandeliers, 
And a grand piano, which he swore would " last a thousand years ; " 
He rattled out the crockery, and sold the silverware ; 
At last they passed him up to sell a little baby's chair. 

" How much? how much? Come, make a bid; is all your money spent? " 

And then a cheap, facetious wag came up and bid, " One cent." 

Just then a sad-faced woman, who stood in silence there, 

Eroke down and cried, " My baby's chair ! My poor, dead baby's chair ! " 

4t Here, madam, take your baby's chair," said the softened auctioneer. 
" I know its value all too well, my baby died last year ; 
And if the owner of the chair, our friend, the mortgagee, 
Object to this proceeding, let him send the bill to me ! " 

Gone was the tone of raillery ; the humorist auctioneer 
Turned shamefaced from his audience to brush away a tear ; 
The laughing crowd was awed and still, no tearless eye was there 
When the weeping woman reached and took her little baby's chair. 



134 



QUO VADIS. 



BY HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 



Arranged by Sara Lord Bailey. 



(Printed by permission of Little, Brown & Co., Publishers. Copyright 1896, by Jeremiah Curtin.) 

INTRODUCTION. 

This scene is laid in Rome when the master city of the world reveled 
in luxury and vice ; when Christianity, yet in its infancy, was secretly 
spreading to the very heart of the city. Nero, the Emperor, was a 
pagan — fond only of applause, luxury and of the Amphitheatre games — 
which afforded amusement for all Rome. Vinicius, one of his courtiers, 
and a magnificent youth, loved Lygia, a beautiful Christian maiden. 
Gradually the purity of the maiden's life wrought a change upon his 
profligate soul, and when he knew that she was as snow upon the moun- 
tain tops compared with the women of Rome, he loved her the more ; 
and when he knew that she was what she was through her religion, he 
loved and desired that religion. At last through the teaching of the 
Apostle Peter, who was as a father to Lygia, Vinicius, unknown to Nero, 
was converted to the Christian religion. Nero, wearying of Rome, ordered 
his courtiers to Antium, in his company. Vinicius feared to leave Lygia 
behind, but to disobey Nero's commands would mean sudden death. 

At Antium, Nero and his court led a life of intoxicating pleasure 
and, for a mere whim, Nero, unknown to the people ordered the destruc- 
tion of Rome. One night as they sat at a feast 



Nero's freedman, appeared from beyond the curtain. " Pardon, divine 
Imperator, there is a conflagration in Rome ! The greater part of the 
city is in flames?" 

At this news all sprang from their seats. 

" Lord, the whole city is one sea of flame ; smoke is suffocating 
the inhabitants, and people faint, or cast themselves into the fire from 



i35 

delirium. Rome is perishing, lord ! " Vinicius' first thought was of 
Lygia ; casting his toga aside, he rushed forth in his tunic, and springing 
on his horse, he dashed along the empty streets. He did not know 
clearly what was happening in his mind; he had merely the feeling that 
misfortune was on the horse with him, sitting behind his shoulders, and 
shouting in his ears, " Rome is burning !" that it was lashing his horse 
and him, urging them toward the fire. A horseman, rushing also like a 
whirlwind, but in the opposite direction, toward Antium, shouted as he 
raced past, " Rome is perishing ! " and on he went. 

After a time Vinicius rushed at full speed past the temple of Mer- 
cury, where people holding torches were hastening to put themselves 
under protection of the deity. He was surrounded by shouts of " Rome 
is burning ! " " Rome is on fire ! " " May the gods rescue Rome ! " 

" What part of the city is on fire? " 

"Who art thou?" "Vinicius, a tribune of the army, an Augustian. 
Answer on thy head ! " 

" The fire broke out in the shops near the Circus Maximus ; it is 
seizing new parts every moment with a force which nothing can stop. 
People are perishing from heat and smoke ; all rescue is impossible." 
The young tribune rushed on. The road lay at the foot of the mountain. 
" From the top I shall see the flames," said he ; and he began to lash 
his horse anew. But before he had reached the top of the mountain he 
felt the wind on his face, and with it came the odor of smoke to his nos- 
trils. At the same time the summit of the height was becoming gilded. 

The fire ! thought Vinicius. He touched the summit at last. The 
whole lower region was covered with smoke, forming as it were one 
gigantic cloud lying close to the earth. In this cloud towns, aqueducts, 
villas, trees, disappeared ; but beyond this gray ghastly plain the city was 
burning on the hills. 

To Vinicius it seemed at the first glance of the eye that not only the 
city was burning, but the whole world, and that no living being could 
save itself from that ocean of flame and smoke. Despair seized Vini- 
cius anew, he raised his head suddenly, and stretching his arms toward 
the sky filled with stars, began to pray. " Not to you do I call whose 
temples are burning, but to Thee ! Thou Thyself hast suffered. Thou 
alone art merciful ! Thou alone hast understood people's pain ; Thou 
didst come to this world to teach pity to mankind ; then show it now. 
If Thou art what Peter and Paul declare, save for me Lygia, take her in 
Thy arms, bear her out of the flames. Thou hast the power to do that ! 



136 

Give her to me, and I will give Thee my blood. But if Thou art unwil- 
ling to do this for me, do it for her. She loves Thee and trusts in Thee. 
Thou dost promise life and happiness after death, but happiness after 
death will not pass away, and she does not wish to die yet. Let her 
live. Take her in Thy arms, bear her out of Rome." 

Vinicius approached the walls. Gladiators, drunk with wine, gath- 
ered in crowds, ran with wild shouts through the neighboring squares, 
scattering, trampling, and robbing the people. A multitude of barbarians, 
exposed for sale in the city, escaped from the booths. For them the 
burning and ruin of Rome was at once the end of slavery and the hour of 
revenge ; so that when the inhabitants stretched their hands to the gods 
in despair, calling for rescue, these slaves with howls of delight scattered 
the crowds, dragged clothing from people's backs, and bore away the 
younger women. 

Above this heaving, mad human multitude roared the fire, surging up 
to the hill-tops of the greatest city on earth, sending into the whirling 
throng its fiery breath, and covering it with smoke, through which it was 
impossible to see the blue sky. The heat was growing unendurable. 
When he saw through the smoky curtain the cypresses in Linus's garden, 
Vinicius glanced heavenward with thankfulness and sprang toward the 
house. The door was closed, " Lygia ! Lygia ! " Silence answered him. 
Nothing could be heard in the stillness there save the roar of the distant 
fire. " Lygia ! " Lygia did not answer his calls. "Then she must have 
escaped ! " — Vinicius rushed to the street; the fire seemed to pursue him 
with burning breath, now surrounding him with fresh clouds of smoke, 
now covering him with sparks, which fell on his hair, neck, and clothing. 
He had the taste of soot and burning in his mouth ; his throat and lungs 
were as if on fire. The blood rushed to his head, and at moments even 
the smoke itself, seemed red to him. Consciousness was leaving him; he 
remembered only that he must flee, for in the open field beyond waited 
Lygia. And all at once he was seized by a certain wonderful conviction, 
that he must see her, marry her, and then die. He ran on, staggering 
from one side of the street to the other. It grew redder still in his eyes, 
breath failed his lungs, strength failed his bones ; he fell. The city 
burned on. When he awoke to consciousness, Peter was bending over 
him. He asked if Lygia were safe. Peter answered " yes ! " but said 
that after the burning of Rome, Nero, in order to turn suspicion from 
himself, accused the Christians of the conflagration, and, for this crime, 
they had been put to horrible tortures in the arena. Among the 



i37 

rest of the Christians, Lygia had been cast into prison, where she awaited, 
she knew not what terrible death. 



The cry, "Christians to the lions ! " was heard increasingly in every 
part of the city. 

When the news went forth that the end of the games was approach- 
ing, and that the last of the Christians were to die at an evening spectacle, 
a countless audience assembled in the amphitheatre. The sight was, in 
truth, magnificent. The lower seats, crowded with togas, were as white 
as snow. In the gilded podium sat Nero, wearing a diamond collar and a 
golden crown on his head ; and on both sides were great officials, senators 
with embroidered togas, officers of the army with glittering weapons — in 
a word, all that was powerful, brilliant, and wealthy in Rome. Uncer- 
tainty, waiting, and curiosity had mastered all spectators. For it had 
been noised about that Nero had reserved the sacrifice of the beautiful 
Christian maiden Lygia as the crowning spectacle of the games. 

Every eye was turned with strained gaze to the place where the 
unfortunate lover was sitting. He was in as much doubt as were the 
other spectators, but alarmed to the lowest depth of his soul. Despair 
began again to cry in his soul. He had the feeling that if he should see 
Lygia tortured, his love for God would be turned to hatred, and his faith 
to despair. But he was amazed at the feeling, for he feared to offend 
Christ, whom he was imploring for mercy and miracles. He implored no 
longer for her life ; he wished merely that she should die before they 
brought her to the arena, and from the abyss of his pain he repeated in 
spirit : " Do not refuse even this, and I will love Thee still more than 
hitherto." And then his thoughts raged as a sea torn by a whirlwind. 
To his head flew at times flashes of hope that everything would be turned 
aside by an almighty and merciful hand. Finally, did he grasp with both 
hands at the thought that faith of itself could save her. Hence he 
rallied, he crushed doubt in himself, he compressed his whole being into 
the sentence, "I believe," and he looked for a miracle. But his weak- 
ness did not last long. At that very instant, the prefect of the city waved 
a red handkerchief, the hinges opposite Nero's podium creaked, and out 
of the dark gully came Lygia's devoted slave into the brightly lighted 
arena. 

The giant blinked, dazed evidently by the glitter of the arena ; then 
he pushed into the centre, gazing around as if to see what he had to 
meet. At sight of him a murmur passed along every bench. People 



i3« 

gazed with the delight of experts at his mighty limbs as large as tree- 
trunks, at his breast as large as two shields joined together, and his arms 
of a Hercules. The murmur rose to shouts, and eager questions were 
put : " Where do the people live who can produce such a giant? " 

He stood there, in the middle of the amphitheatre, naked, more like 
a stone colossus than a man, he gazed wonderingly at the spectators, now 
at Nero. Then he knelt on the arena, joined his hands, and raised his 
eyes toward the stars which were glittering in the lofty opening of the 
amphitheatre. Suddenly the shrill sound of brazen trumpets was heard, 
and at that signal a grating opposite Nero's podium was opened, and into 
the arena rushed, amid shouts, an enormous German aurochs, bearing on 
his head the naked body of a woman. 

" Lygia ! Lygia ! " cried Vinicius. 

Then he began to repeat in hoarse accents, " I believe ! I 

believe ! O Christ, a miracle ! " 

The amphitheatre was silent. The Augustians rose in their places, as 
one man, for in the arena something uncommon had happened. That 
giant, when he saw his queen on the horns of the wild beast, sprang up, 
as if touched by living fire, and bending forward, he ran at the raging 
animal. A sudden cry of amazement was heard, the giant fell on the 
raging bull, and seized him by the horns. All breasts ceased to breathe. 
The man's feet sank in the sand to his ankles, his back was bent like a 
drawn bow, his head was hidden between his shoulders, on his arms the 
muscles came out so that the skin almost burst from their pressure ; the 
man and the beast remained still. But in that apparent repose there was 
a tremendous exertion of two struggling forces. The bull sank his feet as 
did the man in the sand, and his dark, shaggy body was curved so that it 
seemed a gigantic ball. Which of the two would fall first? In the Circus 
nothing was heard save the sound of flame in the lamps, and the crackle 
of bits of coal as they dropped from the torches. People thought them- 
selves dreaming till the enormous head of the bull began to turn in the 
iron hands of the giant. Duller and duller, hoarser and hoarser, more 
and more painful grew the groan of the bull as it mingled with the whist- 
ling breath from the breast of the giant. The head of the beast turned 
more and more, a moment, and to the ears of the spectators came the 
crack of breaking bones ; then the beast rolled on the earth with his neck 
twisted in death. The giant removed the ropes from the horns of the 
bull, and, raising the maiden in his arms, he stood as if only half con- 
scious ; then he looked at the spectators. The Amphitheatre had gone 
wild. The walls of the building were trembling from the roar of tens of 



139 

thousands of people. He approached Nero's podium, and, holding the 
body of the maiden on his outstretched arms, raised his eyes with en- 
treaty, as if to say, — " Have mercy on her ! Save the maiden. I did that 
for her sake ! " Pity burst forth suddenly like a flame. They had had 
blood, death, and torture in sufficiency. Voices choked with tears began to 
entreat mercy for both. Now Vinicius started up, sprang over the barrier 
into the arena, and running to Lygia, covered her naked body with his 
toga. Then he tore apart the tunic on his breast, laid bare the scars left 
by the wounds received in war, and stretched out his hands to the audience. 
At this the enthusiasm of the multitude passed everything seen in a circus 
before. The crowd stamped and howled. Voices called for mercy. 
People rose in defence of the soldier, the maiden, their love. Thousands 
of spectators turned to Nero with flashes of anger in their eyes and with 
clinched fists. 

But Nero halted and hesitated. He gazed around to see if among 
the Augustians, at least, he could not find fingers turned down in 
sign of death. His glance rested on the Apostle Peter; those two men 
looked at each other. It occurred to no one in that brilliant retinue and 
to no one in that immense throng, that at that moment two powers of the 
earth were looking at each other, one of which would vanish quickly as a 
bloody dream, and the other, dressed in simple garments, would seize in 
eternal possession the world and the city. 

Now rage began to possess the multitude. Dust rose from beneath 
the stamping feet, and filled the amphitheatre. In the midst of shouts 
were heard cries : " Incendiary ! incendiary ! " Nero was alarmed. He 
looked once more at the centurion, at the soldiers ; and seeing every- 
where frowning brows, excited faces and eyes fixed on him, — he gave 
the sign for mercy. 

Then a thunder of applause was heard from the highest seats to the 
lowest. And Vinicius, raising his hands to Heaven, cried, "A miracle, a 
miracle, I believe ! I believe ! " 



140 



SUNDAY THIEVES. 

BY J. T. TROWBRIDGE. 
An adaptation from " Neighbor's Wives." 



ARRANGED BY EMMA AUGUSTA GREELY. 



(Printed by permission of Lee & Shepard, Publishers.) 

A still, September day, with the peculiar sentiment of the Sabbath 
breathing in the air, and filling all the silent rooms of the house with its 
cool hush. The bells have ceased ringing ; but Prudence is at home. In 
the morning she can usually endure a sermon of reasonable length ; but in 
the afternoon it is impossible for her to avoid the sin of drowsiness. And 
it is so mortifying to the sensitive John to have to keep waking her up, that 
she has wisely resolved to spend her Sunday afternoons at home. She 
reads a little, sleeps a good deal, and then, with a basket on her arm, she 
visits the garden for vegetables. She is sorry the tomatoes are poor and 
puny. She is fond of tomatoes, and involuntarily looks over the fence 
into Abel Dane's garden, where there are bushels of nice, ripe ones. 
" Now, old Mis' Dane, and Abel, too, for that matter, hed just as lives 
we'd have some of them tomatuses as not. It's a pity to see 'em wasted. 
They look to me to be a-rottin' on the ground. Anyway, frost'll come 
and finish 'em 'fore their folks can ever use 'em up. I've a good notion 
jest to step over and pick a few. They never'd know it ; and John'll 
think they come off m our own vines." 

Up and down and all around she looks, and sees no eye beholding 
her. 

"They've all gone to meeting. Only a few tomatuses. What's the 
harm I'd like to know? I'm sure I'd ruther any one would have my 
tomatuses than leave e'm to rot on the ground. I will just step over and 
take two or three." 

"Stepping over" was a rather light and airy way of expressing it. 
Did you ever see a large woman climb a fence, and didn't laugh? Cau- 
tiously feeling the boards till she finds one she has confidence in; hugging 



141 

the post affectionately ; putting her elbows over the topmost board, and 
finally getting one foot over ; then turning round, as she brings up the 
other foot; then getting down backwards, very much as she got up, — all 
this is in the program. Prudence is not nearly so spry as a cat ; but give 
her time, and she is good for any common board fence, providing nobody 
is looking. At last the feat is accomplished, and she treads carefully 
among the tomatoes. 

Although purposing to pick only a few, they are so large and so 
plenty that she fills her basket almost before she knows it. Then, it is 
"sich a pity to see 'em wasted," she thinks she will put two or three in 
her apron. Stooping, with broad back to the golden sunshine and blue 
Sabbath sky ; holding up her apron with one hand, and loading it with the 
other, she is peering among the vines, when suddenly she is startled by a 
harsh growl. In great fright she looks up and sees Turk bristling at her. 

" Massy sakes ! why, Turk ! don't you know me? Dear me ! You 
never acted so before, Turk ! You never barked at me ! Come doggy ! 
poor fellow ! poor fellow ! " 

She reaches out her hand coaxingly, and the brute snaps at it. Then 
the soul of the woman grows sick within her, and her knees shake. Right 
before her stands the red-eyed snarling monster, — between her and her 
basket ; and what shall she do ! 

" Turk, it's me, Turk ! your old friend, doggy ! '' 

He won't dare to bite her, she thinks. And if she dies for it, she 
must get out of the garden before the folks come from meeting. She 
makes a charge at her basket. Turk meets her with a terrific leap and 
snarl, and seizes her apron with his teeth. Involuntarily screaming, she 
retreats. She clings to the apron with her hands, he with his jaws. She 
pulls one way, he tugs the other. The string breaks. Prudence loses her 
hold of the apron, and falls in the entangling tomato-vines. 

" I never, never ! Oh, dear, dear ! What shall I do ! what shall 
I do?" 

Turk seats himself beside her, with his fore paws on her dress, and 
his red tongue, white teeth, hot breath, and ferocious eyes close to her 
face. 

A sad predicament for a respectable woman, isn't it? Oh, what 
would she give if she had only stayed in her own garden, and never cast 
covetous eyes at her neighbor's? If she only had her apron and basket 
safe and empty the other side of the fence, would she ever, ever do such 
a thing again? Never, never ! 

The meetings are out ; the wagons have begun to go by, and now the 



142 

feet of scattered pedestrians clatter along the wooden village sidewalks. 
Among those who walk is Prudence's husband, the meek John Apjohn, 
choking in his Sunday cravat. He passes within a stone's throw of the 
crushed tomatoes but does not dream that his wife is so near. 

And now Prudence can hear 'the familiar sound of her own gate 
slammed. John has got home. 

" To be sure, Prudy ! " begins the cooper as he enters the house, 
carefully giving his black hat a final polish with his red silk handkerchief 
before putting it away for the week. " Them was two dreadful good ser- 
mons to-day. Desperate smart man, old Mr. Hardwell, — as feeling a 
preacher as ever I sot under. You should have heard him dwell upon the 
vanities of this world this afternoon ! All our pride and selfishness, and 
what we call the good things of life, where'll they all be in a few years? 
You ought to have heard him, Prudy ; to be sure ! Why, where be you, 
Prudy? — Prudy — Prudy ! " 

But there is no Prudence in the house, no Prudence in the garden. 
" Prudence ! " he calls. 

V^hat is that? A faint, far-off, stifled scream. 

"John! John! help!" 

The voice sounds as if it were in the well. Prudence in the well ! 
In an instant the cooper's vivid fancy pictures that excellent and large- 
sized woman fallen into the deep and narrow cavity. He is at the curb in 
a second, when — behind him, he hears, "John ! come quick ! " 

" Where be ye? and what's the matter? " 

" Here I am, and you'll see what's the matter. Don't make no 
noise, but come as quick as you can, and get away this horrid dog ! " 

Then John Apjohn, rushing to the fence, sees the prostrate woman, 
and sedentary dog, and the guilty tomatoes. He clings to the fence un- 
able to utter a word. 

"Quick, I say ! " cries Prudence. " Take off this dog, and I'll tell 
you all about it by'm'by." 

Over the fence tumbles the astonished cooper. Turk glares and 
growls and snaps at the little man as if he would swallow him. 

"I can't, Prudy! " 

" Ketch right hold of him ! Choke him ! " 

"I da'sn't!" 

" If I had a man for a husband ! — Git a club ! Kill the brute ! " 

"To be sure ! to be sure ! " and John starts to find a club. There 
is a pole leaning on an apple-tree near by. He secures it and the com- 
bat begins, with John at one end of the pole and Turk at the other. 






143 

Turk seizes his end with his teeth; John holds his in his hands. Turk 
growls to make John let go ; John shooes and steboys to make Turk let 

go- 

" Pull it away from him !" exclaims Prudence. 

John pulls until the sagacious dog suddenly releases his grip, and 
leaves the pole with the cooper, who loses his balance, staggers backward 
rapidly, and sits down in an over-ripe muskmelon. 

" Take the pole and knock him on the head with it, hard ! " 

Up goes the pole, unsteadily and slow. 

"Ready?" says John. 

" Yes ; strike ! " 

And down comes the heavy, unwieldy weapon. Turk sees it descend- 
ing and is out of the way before the radius has passed through one half 
the arc ; but it is impossible for the cooper to stay his hold ; and the blow 
falls upon Mrs. Apjohn. 

" Now I've killed ye !" 

" Don't ye know no better'n to be murderin' me 'stid of the dog !" 

" I didn't mean to !" 

" Empty out them tomatuses, and throw the basket over the fence, 
anyway." 

"How come the tomatuses in your basket? O Prudy, Prudy ! " 

"Wall I s'pose I'm to lay here till doomsday, or till Abel's folks 
come home. There they come now, — don't they?" 

"Yes, they're late. I'll call Abel to come and call off his dog." 

" Don't ye for the world ! Sit right down ; mabby they wont see 
us!" 

" What ! ye don't re'ly mean to say you — you've been — hooking the 
tomatuses? " 

" Sit down, I say ! " and John sits, hugging his knees, with his chin 
between them. He feels like a thief; he knows he looks like a thief. 
And there the three wait — Turk guarding his prisoners. 

" Prudy ! " whispers John. 

" What ! " 

" It's dreadful ! it's dreadful ! " 

" Hold your tongue ! " 

" Prudy ! " 

" What do you want now? " 

" I wish you'd gone to meetin' this arternoon Prudy ! " 

" You can't wish so any more'n I do ! " 

" If you'd only heard that sermon Prudy? " 



144 

" Stop your talk about the sermon ! " 

" Prudy ! " 

"Well! what?" 

" I wish I was dead ! — don't you? " 

" I wish this dog was dead ! " 

Upon which, to convince them that he is not, nor anything like it, 
Turk begins to bark. 

" It's all over now ! " 

John feels that he can never confront Abel Dane after this, but before 
he had time to consider what to do, he hears a step in the grass. He 
twists his neck around on his shoulders, as he crouches, softly turns up his 
timid glance over the cabbages, and beholds the dreaded visage of Abel 
Dane. 

"Come here, Turk ! " says the severe voice of Abel. 

Cooper John, having once turned round his head softly turns it back 
again, and sits still. 

Prudence gathers herself up as soon as Turk permits, and begins hur- 
riedly to shake and brush her gown. 

" Wal ! Abel Dane, this is a pooty sight for Sunday, I s'pose you 
think ! And so it is ! And I want to know, now, if you think it's neigh- 
borly to keep a brute like that, to tear folks to pieces that jest set a foot 
on your premises? For here he's kep' me groanin' on my back an hour, 
if he has a minute. John Apjohn ! what- are ye shirkin' there for? " 

" I am sorry," says Abel, "if my dog has put you to any inconven- 
ience. He didn't bite you, I hope ! " 

" No ! well for him ! The fact is jest this, Abel Dane, if you begrutch 
me a few tomatuses, it's what your father never done before ye, and I 
never expected it of you : and I'll cheerfully pay you for 'em, if you'll 
accept of any pay ; and my husband here knows I only jest stepped over 
the fence to save a few that was bein' wasted, which I thought was sech a 
pity, and you'd jest as lives we'd have 'em ; and I meant all the time to 
tell ye I took some, when that plaguy dog ! " — 

Here, having poured forth these words in a wild and agitated manner, 
the woman broke down, and wept and sobbed, and continued confusedly 
to brush her gown. 

" Well, well, neighbors, you're quite welcome to the tomatoes. I 
haven't known what I should do with 'em all, and I'm glad to get rid of 
'em. But whenever you want any more tomatoes, Mrs. Apjohn, you've 
only to come in through the gate, and Turk will never molest you." 



145 



THE MOURNING VEIL. 

ADAPTED FROM A STORY BY J. L. HARBOUR. 



(From the Youth's Companion, by permission of the Author.}' 

A wide, uncovered piazza ran along the front of the Stoner house, 
and there two little girls, children of a neighbor who had no piazza, were 
playing " keep house." They had their dolls, dishes and other play- 
things strewn about, but were beginning to lose interest in housekeeping 
and "going visiting." Suddenly the younger of them said: 

" I'll tell you what — let's play funeral," 

"How?" 

" Well, we can play that my Josephine Maude Angelina dolly died, 
and that we buried her." 

"That will be splendid ! Let's have her die right off." 

Immediately after the death of Josephine Maude Angelina her grief- 
stricken mother said : 

" Now, Katie, we must put crape on the door-knob to let folks know 
about it. You run over to the house and get mamma's long black veil." 

"It ought to be white for a dolly, oughtn't it?" (asked Katie). 

" I guess you forget that Josephine Maude was a married doll, and a 
widow at that, don't you?" (asked Dorothy, a little tartly). "You 
remember how Teddy Davis's horrid dog chewed poor Josephine's 
husband up." 

Katie went away, and returned soon with a long black mourning veil. 
It was quickly tied to Mrs. Stoner's front door-bell knob ; then the bereft 
Dorothy's grief broke out afresh, and she wailed and wept so vigorously 
that Mrs. Stoner put her head out of an upper window and said : 

"You little girls are making too much noise down there. Mr. 
Stoner's sick, and you disturb him. I think you'd better run home and. 
play now. My husband wants to go to sleep." 

" How unfeeling ! " ( said Dorothy, snatching up the dead doll and 
her other playthings ) . They departed, quite forgetting to take the veil 
off the door-knob. 



146 

Half an hour afterwards Maria Simmons came down the street, and 
suddenly stopped in front of the Stoner house. 

" My sakes alive ! If there ain't crape on the Stoners' door-knob I 
Poor Sam Stoner ! I knew he was sick, but I'd no idea he was at all 
dangerous. I must stop on my way home and find out about it." 

She would have stopped then if it had not been for her eagerness to 
carry the news to those who might not have heard of it. A little farther 
on, she met an acquaintance. 

"Ain't heard 'bout the trouble up at the Stoners, have you?" 

"What trouble?" 

" Sam Stoner is dead. There's crape on the door-knob. I was in 
there yesterday, and Sam was up and 'round the house ; but I could see 
that he was a good deal sicker than he or his wife had any idea of, and 
I ain't much s'prised." 

" My goodness me ! I must find time to call there before night." 

Mrs. Simmons stopped at the village post-office, ostensibly to ask 
for a letter, but really to impart her information to Uncle Dan Wales, the 
talkative old postmaster. 

"Heard 'bout Sam Stoner?" 

"No. I did hear he was grnntin' 'round a little, but — " 

"He won't grunt no more," (said Mrs, Simmons solemnly). 
J 'He's dead." 

" How you talk ! " 

" It's so. There's crape on the door." 

"" Must have been dreadful sudden! Mis' Stoner was in here last 
evening an' she reckoned he'd be out in a day or two well as ever." 

" I know. But he ain't been well for a long time. I could see it if 
others couldn't." 

The news was spreading now from another source, and in a way that 
caused those who heard it to declare that it was " perfectly scand'lous " 
for Mrs. Stoner to " carry on so." 

Job Higley, the grocer's delivery man, returned from leaving some 
things at the Stoner house, full of indignation. 

"That Mis' Stoner ain't no more feelin' than a lamp-post," (said 
Job indignantly ). There's crape on the door-knob for poor Sam Stoner, 
an' when I left the groceries Mis' Stoner was fryin' doughnuts cool as a 
cowcumber an' singin' 'Way down upon the Swanee River' loud as she 
could screech, an' when I said I was sorry 'bout Sam she just laughed an' 
said she 'guessed Sam was all right,' an' then if she didn't go to jokin' 
me 'bout Tildy Hopkins ! " 



i47 

Old Mrs. Peevy came home with an equally scandalous tale. 

"I went right over to the Stoners soon as I heard 'bout poor Sam," 
she said, " an' if you'll b'lieve me, there was Mis' Stoner hangin' out 
clothes in the back yard. I went right 'round to where she was an' she 
says jest as flippant, ' Mercy! Mis' Peevy, where'd you drop down 
from?'" 

" I felt so s' prised an' disgusted that I says, 'Mis' Stoner, this is a 
mighty solemn thing,' an' if she didn't just look at me an' laugh, with the 
crape for poor Sam danglin' from the front door-bell knob ; an' she says, 
* I don't see nothin' very solemn 'bout washin' an' hangin' out some o' 
Sam's old shirts an' underwear that he'll never wear agin. I'm goin' to 
work 'em up into carpet-rags if they ain't too fur gone fur even that.' " 

" ' Mis Stoner', I says, ' the neighbors will talk dreadfully if you ain't 
more careful,' an' she got real angry and said if the neighbors would 
attend to their business she'd attend to hers. I turned and left without 
even going into the house." 

The Carbury Weekly Star came out two hours later with this announce- 
ment : 

" We stop our press to announce the unexpected demise of our highly 
respected fellow-citizen, Mr. Samuel Stoner, this afternoon. A more 
extended notice will appear next week." 

" Unexpected ! I should say so ! " said Mr. Samuel Stoner, as he 
read this announcement in the paper. ' " A more extended notice next 
week?" I'll write that notice myself, I'll extend it far enough to let that 
editor know what I think of him." 

"But how did this crape get on the front door?" interrupted Mrs. 
Stoner. " I found it there when I went out to get the paper. It is the 
strangest thing, and I — there's the minister coming in the gate ! Do 
calm down, Sam ! He's coming to make arrangements for the funeral, 
I suppose." 

Mr. Havens, the minister, was surprised when Mr. Stoner himself 
opened the door and said : 

" Come right in, pastor ; come right in. My wife's busy, but if you 
want to go ahead with the funeral, I'll give you the main points myself." 



148 



A MEETING OF ROYALTY. 



BY MARGARET DODGE. 



(Copyright, 1895, by the Shortstory Publishing Company, Publishers of " The Black Cat." Printed by- 
Permission.) 

It was not according to the schedule that the special train, consisting 
of a locomotive, an empty baggage car, and regally equipped private car, 
Priscilla, should stop for three-quarters of an hour at Mayville Junction. 
Indeed, in his instructions, the Great Man, who was the car's sole occu- 
pant, had provided for a wait of only five minutes. It is a matter of 
record, however, that for forty-five minutes the official train waited at the 
lonesome little station on the Indiana prairie. What happened in those 
forty-five minutes is now given for the first time to the public. 

After the Great Man — who was no other than the president of the 
A. M. & P. Trunk Line, which joins the Atlantic Ocean with the Great 
Lakes — after the Great Man had taken a perfunctory turn about the little 
station, he went back to his seat in the white-and-gold drawing-room, and 
sat down to a game of solitaire. The Great Man was not specially fond 
of solitaire. But he was still less fond of the thoughts engendered by a 
two weeks' solitary tour of inspection through the flat, drab, malarial 
country of the middle West. It was while the president was thus 
engaged that he was startled by these words, spoken in a shrill little 
voice — 

" If you please, sir, are you the king? " 

The moment that elapsed before the Great Man could whirl about 
in the direction of the voice was long enough for several detached bits of 
" Alice in Wonderland " to flit through his brain. What he saw, how- 
ever, when faced around, was simply a very solemn, very pale little girl,, 
who stood with one thin hand on the door knob, and one small, scarlet- 
stockinged leg well advanced, while her hazel eyes gleamed at him 
anxiously from under a fuzzy brown hat. 

" Really," said the Great Man, good-humoredly, " I don't know — 
why, yes, now that you speak of it — I suppose I am a sort of king. At 
least, I believe newspapers call me a railroad king. Won't you come 
here and sit down? " 



149 

The small girl shut the door and slid to his side in a gait that com- 
bined a hop and a glide. " I suppose it isn't just the thing to sit down 
in the presence of royalty, but, you see, I am a princess myself — a fairy 
princess." 

" Indeed. That's very interesting, and I don't like to doubt the 
word of a lady. But all the fairy princesses of my acquaintance have had 
wings and spangles, and carried star-tipped wands — and — and all that." 

" But that was because you saw them during the performance. I 
wear wings and spangles and carry a wand myself, in the evenings, and 
at the Wednesday and Saturday matinees. I'm the Princess Iris, in the 
Golden Crown Opera Company ; and if I wore my fairy clothes all the 
time my wings would fade and the spangles would wear off. 

" But you know you don't look a bit like the kings of my acquaint- 
ance. They all wear gilt crowns and velvet and ermine robes, and carry 
sceptres. And, besides, you are a great deal too young. " 

" I am afraid you have me there ; at least, I mean, I suppose you 
are right. I don't look my part. But, then, I am not performing now 
myself. We are in the same boat — that is — " 

" Oh, you needn't bother to explain, I understand slang. Only I 
don't talk it myself, now, except when I forget, because the Queen doesn't 
like it." 

"So there is a queen, too, is there? Dear me, we shall soon have 
the entire royal family." 

" Yes, there is a queen, and she is not to be laughed at. In fact, 
it's partly about her I've come. I — wanted an audience." 

"Well, really, I should like to accommodate you, but" — "my 
train leaves in about one minute, and I don't see exactly how I can." 

"Oh, my! Can't you even make your own train wait while a 
princess talks to you? " 

" Well, since you put it that way, I suppose I can," said the Great 
Man, pressing an electric button. Then, the porter appeared, and glided 
out again. 

"Very likely I don't get half the fun out of being a king that I 
might. You see, I sometimes forget the extent of my power." 

" Ah ! yes, that's the very thing I've come to speak to you about. I 
— I hope you will excuse me if I hurt your feelings. It's like this : I 
s'pose you've such a big kingdom you don't get a chance to straighten 
out all things that go wrong." 

" And something has gone wrong now, has it? " 

"Yes, as wrong as can be. It's the train to Washita. It was put 



i5o 

down on the time-table, you know, to go at four this afternoon, and 
we all came down to the station to get it. And now they say it may 
be two hours before it arrives ; so, instead of getting to Washita at half- 
past six it will be long after nine, and we'll be too late to give our perform- 
ance. And that will be a very d-r-eadful loss to the Queen." 

" How's that? One night can't make very much difference." 

" Oh, but this is Saturday night and the whole house was sold long 
ago. Washita's the best show town in the State, you know, and the Queen 
was counting on the money. 

"You see, it's been a dreadfully poor season in the profession, and 
even the Queen has lost heaps. And just now when she found out we'd 
be late her face got all white and she hung on to my hand, oh, so hard, 
and said — It quite upsets me to think of it. The Queen said that she 
was afraid that the company would have to disband now, and the season's 
hardly begun." 

Two great tears rolled down the white little face. 

" That is hard luck ! But then, after all she's only a play queen, 
you know, and I presume she's — well — roughed it before. Anyway you'll 
probably all find nice engagements soon, and be just as well ofT as you 
are now." 

" How can you say that ? Of course we can't be so happy with any one 
else. And we all love her dearly. And, besides, if the rest are make- 
believes she isn't ; she's a real queen all the time ! I — you must excuse 
me if I hurt your feelings. The Queen wouldn't like it if she thought 
I'd done that, and on her account, too ; but, you see, I really couldn't 
bear to have her called a make-believe. And now, I think I'll go back 
to the station. My auntie and the Queen will be wondering where I am." 

" Wait a minute, I want to know more about this real Queen. You 
know they say all royal families are connected, and she may be a relative 
of mine." 

" No, she isn't, because she told me once that she had no relations 
left since her father died. You see, she used to live in a big palace in 
New York in the winter and a stone castle in Newport in the summer, 
and she had horses, and carriages, and diamonds, and all those things. 
But she wasn't a queen because she had them, you know, but they belonged 
to her because she was a queen. 

" Well, one day her father died and they found he'd lost all his 
money, and some that belonged to other people besides, so the Queen 
had to go on the stage and get some money to take care of herself and 
to pay back what he borrowed, you know. And that was four years ago, 



i5i 

and now she's paid back all Mr. Denbigh's debts except two thousand 
dollars—" 

" Mr. Denbigh ! " 

" Why, what's the matter? Ain't you feeling well? Your arm trem- 
bles so." 

" Oh, yes ; quite well. Only I felt so sorry for your Queen." 

" I knew you would. Well, as I told you, she paid it all back except 
just that two thousand dollars, and this season she expected to finish it. 
And that made her so happy because she doesn't like being a make- 
believe queen, and it was only on her father's account she did it." 

" You're sure it was only that? She didn't care to be famous, 
after all?" 

" Why, how queer your voice sounds. I'm sure you can't be feeling 
well or you wouldn't say such things. I should think that being a king 
yourself you'd know that when a person's been a real queen once she 
wouldn't care about being a make-believe one." 

" Now there was one that the Queen knew. She told me just a 
little about him one day when things seemed very make-believey to her. 
She put it in a kind of story, you know. 

" Do you know, he thought just what you did, because she wouldn't 
marry him instead of going off for what he called a ' career ' ? And he'd 
known her ever since she was a little girl, too, and ought to have known 
better, oughtn't he?" 

" Yes, I suppose he ought. But you see the Queen didn't tell him 
about — about the money she was paying back. And she was a great deal 
younger than he, and beautiful, with a voice that people said would make 
her famous, and he thought that she really cared more to be a stage queen 
than anything else." 

" Tell me, dear, has she still the ring he gave her when she was a 
little girl?" 

" The teenty little forget-me-not ring that she wears on a chain and 
often kis — But— how did you know? I never told you the rest, and your 
eyes are so strange." 

But the Great Man had risen and was striding rapidly up and down 
the car. " And Alice really cared for me — she cares for me still, 
while I, who ought to have stood by her, have only hindered her. 
And now she needs help, and I with all my money haven't the right to 
help her. It's too late — I can never make up for the time I've lost." 

" I hope you don't mind, but you spoke so loud I couldn't help 
hearing the last. And if you mean the train to Washita, it isn't too late. 



152 

If you could get it here in fifteen minutes — and I s'spose that's easy, for 
a king — we could give the performance, even if the curtain did ring up 
late." 

"Train to Washita," murmured the Great Man. "Why yes; of 
course ! How stupid of me," and he pressed the electric button. 

Then, to the porter, "Ask the conductor to step here." 

"The Golden Crown Opera Company has been delayed here," he 
said, when that official appeared, " and I want them to take this special 
train to Washita. Put the whole party in my private car. Tell the 
engineer he must make extra time to get them there at six-thirty. Tele- 
graph ahead for a clear track and to Casstown for supplies, so that dinner 
may be served in this car. When the train is ready to start step over to 
the station and tell the company that the train for Washita is waiting. 
And be sure that everything is done to make them comfortable. I will 
follow on the regular express." 

Then the Great Man found himself suddenly caught in the embrace 
of what seemed a small-sized tornado. "You really mean it? Oh, I was 
sure from the beginning that you were a really, truly king, even if you 
didn't wear a crown and velvet robes. But, you won't go away just when 
the Queen's coming? " 

"Well, you see, the fact is, these meetings with royalty are so unusual 
for me that I feel hardly prepared for another one the same day. So I 
think I'll follow in a common car. And in the morning I'll ask for a 
private audience with the Queen." 



153 



GOING TO THE CIRCUS. 

BY JAMES OTIS. 
An adaptation from " The Wreck of the Circus." 



Arranged by Sara Lord Bailey. 



(Printed by permission of Thomas Y. Crowell & Co., Publishers.) 

Every available space in the town of Berwick was occupied by the 
gorgeously colored posters of the " great and only circus, Royal Amphi- 
theatre, and Grand Aggregation of Living Wonders." And nearly every 
boy in the village knew that the circus was coming and talked of little 
else from the moment the mammoth placards appeared ; and they 
speculated as to how the money with which to purchase a ticket could be 
procured. Among some whose minds were not at rest were Teddy 
Dunham and Phil Barton. On the day before the "Great and Only" 
was to make its appearance, the two boys met by chance in front of the 
largest collection of posters, and from the expression on the face of each 
you would have said the boys were extremely unhappy. 

" No, I haven't got the money," said Teddy, " mother says she can't 
spare it now, times are so hard, an' I haven't had a single chance to 
earn so much as a cent. But, Phil, I ain't going to give up trying until 
after the show has opened. Say, Phil, will you go with me to see the 
show before it gets into town? " 

" Course I will, I was counting on doing that much anyhow. 

" We'll start by daylight, an' walk as far as the cross-roads. I shan't 
wait, even to wash my face." 

"I'll be all ready." 

Then Phil and Teddy separated. Two hours later the friends met 
again in front of Atwood's store, and there was an expression of deepest 
gloom on Phil's face, which caused Teddy to ask, " Have your folks shut 
down on the circus, even if you can earn money to buy a ticket? " 

" They might just as well, for mother and father are reckoning on 
leaving early to-morrow morning for a visit to Aunt Hannah, an' won't be 



154 

back till evening, and I've got to take care of baby from morning till 1 
night." 

" Well, you are in a fix ! Don't you suppose you could take the 
baby down to the cross-roads. Ain't he three years old? " 

" What of that? He couldn't travel five miles, could he! As to 
lugging him, he's heavier than lead. So I'll have to stay at home, I've 
got Sam on my hands till night." 

" If we can earn the money to buy tickets, just as likely as not we 
could run Sam in for nothing. I ain't certain, but I'll bet we can 
take him with us, and when your mother comes home, why, she'll be glad 
the baby had a good time." 

Phil did not feel positive — but this was a sound argument; so, after 
an exceedingly brief struggle with his conscience, the matter was ended^ 
and once more came the question as to how the money might be pro- 
cured. This was a problem which Teddy could not solve as readily as he 
had the one regarding Sam. 

The morning on which the " Great and Only " was to exhibit dawned 
as bright and fair as could have been desired. It was a great relief to 
Phil when the carriage was at the door and his motjier ready for depart- 
ure — " I know you can be trusted, Philip. Remember that Sammie is 
only a baby, and be patient with him. If we are not home by sunset put 
him to bed." Then the carriage was whirled away ; and Phil was left 
with Sam and his conscience. 

It was not yet seven o'clock when an unusual commotion told that 
the " Aggregation of Living Wonders " was approaching the town. An 
hour later and Teddie, breathless with excitement, rushed in — 

" She's come, Phil ! " he shouted. " Why, them pictures don't begin 
to tell half that belongs to this circus. I never saw such horses an' beasts 
in my life. And the wagons ! Well, more gold on 'em than would buy 
two such towns as this ! And say, Phil, they've got three bands of music. 
I don't believe a circus of the kind was ever here before, an' we've got to 
get in some way ! Hurrah ! There she comes ! There she comes ! 
Now, Phil, you're going to see something." 

Strains of music told of the approach of the " Great and Only," and 
from that moment until the end of the cavalcade had passed, neither the 
boys nor the baby heeded anything save the gorgeous procession, which 
caused the dusty road to appear a perfect blaze of color. Then Teddy 
assumed an air of business, leaped down from the veranda — " Now, I've 
got to leave. There's no time to lose. Phil, you go over by the circus 
grounds. I'll be sure to find you." And Teddy departed hurriedly. 



i55 

Phil no longer thought of duty ; he locked the door carefully and 
taking little Sam by the hand started for the circus grounds. 

He had been on the enchanted ground half an hour or more when 
he heard a familiar cry — " Hi ! Phil ! Hold on a minute ! " 

Then Teddy, carrying two water-pails, came toward him. " I've struck 
just the kind of a job I was hunting after. I'm just the same as one of 
the circus men now. I'm luggin' water for the horses. It ain't five 
minutes since I had my arms 'round the neck of that spotted pony. 
That's what you call a stunner !" 

" Will they really let you go in and out of there as often as you like ? " 

" Of course. Didn't I say I was luggin' water for the horses and I'm 
going to get two tickets for the show. Though I'd been willing to do it 
for nothing rather'n not had the chance. Say, why can't you help me?" 

Phil actually forgot the baby and seized one of the pails, when he 
suddenly remembered his charge. "How can I? The baby couldn't 
run back and forth." 

" Put him right down on the ground an' chuck a couple of rocks on 
his dress ; that'll hold him." 

"Yes, an' he'd yell loud enough to break up the whole show — 
there's Sadie Parker ! I wonder if I gave her my ' agates ' if she wouldn't 
take care of him a spell? " Hurriedly Phil made his way to where Sadie 
was standing ; and in a few moments she was engaged as temporary nurse 
for little Sam. The boys worked until streams of perspiration ran down 
their flushed faces, but there was no thought of relinquishing their proud 
positions as water-carriers to the circus horses. Noon came and Teddy's 
employer still demanded more water. The boys worked until every 
barrel and pail in the tent had been filled. " Now Teddy, you go and 
get the tickets and I'll take Sam and hang 'round in front of the big tent 
till you come." Phil hurriedly made his way to the spot where he had last 
seen Sadie and the baby, but — failing to find either — he ran from one end 
of the grounds to the other, inquiring eagerly for the missing nurse of every 
acquaintance he met until he was nearly breathless, when Leander Phinney 
told him he had seen S-idie Parker on her way home and that she was 
alone. Phil stood gazing around him in perplexity, and then with the 
utmost haste he started for the Parker home. Sadie having seen him 
from the window, came quickly out into the street — " Didn't you find 
the baby where I left him? I stayed with him just as long as I could, 
for mother told me if I wasn't home by dinner time I couldn't go to the 
circus this afternoon. I left the baby with a woman and she said she'd 



i56 

take care of him till you came, I don't know but I think she belonged to 
the circus." 

" Did she promise to stay right in that spot? " 

" I don't know as those were her very words ; but she said she'd 
take care of him." 

Phil was bewildered, he stood for an instant staring blankly at Sadie, 
then turning, ran back to the tenting-ground at full speed. He was dart- 
ing here and there, hoping even against hope that he might by accident 
stumble upon the baby when Teddy confronted him. 

"Say, you're a nice fellow for a partner, ain't you? " 

" But Sam's lost, Teddy, I can't find him." And Phil repeated what 
had been told him. 

" O ! it's all right if one of the show women took him. I suppose 
he's inside the big tent this minute, he's bound to be there. Come on ; 
let's go in and we'll have hold of Sam in no time." 

At last Phil was inside the magic portals, but this fact did not give 
him the pleasure he had expected. On every hand were fancifully 
painted cages containing animals yet he paid little attention to them or the 
herd of elephants which would have held him spell bound under different 
circumstances. 

"Hold on! Where are you going? Just look at that cage of 
monkeys, will you? " 

" I can't stop now, Teddy. I've got to find Sam." 

It seemed to Phil as if fully half the afternoon had passed before 
Teddy finally announced his willingness to enter the main tent where 
both believed the baby would be found. 

The spacious tent was filled almost to overflowing. "What shall I 
do, Teddy ? We couldn't find him here in a month, even if he was huntin' 
for us." 

" I think you'll have to wait till this crowd clears out." 

It was no longer possible for Phil to restrain his tears ; the big drops 
chased each other down his cheeks. If at that moment he could have 
thrown himself down at his mother's knee, knowing little Sam was safe at 
home, how gladly would he receive such punishment as she might see fit 
to inflict. Unfortunately this could not be. 

The frightened boy ran to and fro, like one frantic he darted from 
point to point. It was as if the baby had disappeared from off the face 
of the earth. He had no idea of the flight of time. It might have been 
five minutes or half an hour, when he was aroused by the cry — " Hi ! 
Phil ! Phil Barton ! Sam's all right; he's with the woman who took him 



i57 

from Sadie Parker. One of the men said he saw something-or-other 
Marie going into the dressing-room with a strange youngster." 

Phil soon found the dressing-room. "Teddy Dunham says our 
baby's here, an' I've got to come in," he said to the burly fellow who 
barred the passage. 

"Are you after the kid M'lle Marie brought in? He's in the 
women's dressing-room ; but neither you nor I can go in there until the 
show is over." 

"But I must, I've got to get Sam." 

"Oh, you must, eh? The rule of this 'ere show is that nobody is 
allowed in the women's dressing-room, an' I'm here to see that it ain't 
broken. You come back when the performance is over. You'd better 
follow my advice, my boy, 'cause you won't get him any sooner." 

Almost mechanically Phil retraced his steps. Loud strains of music 
told that the performance had begun ; yet he hesitated to join the 
audience lest every finger should be pointed at him as a boy who had 
deserted his baby brother for the questionable pleasure of carrying water 
to the circus horses. While he stood leaning against the wheel of a 
wagon, a loud, sudden peal of thunder seemed to cause the very earth to 
tremble, and the caged animals darted to and fro across their narrow 
prisons in alarm. Another peal, even louder than the first, and then a 
fierce gust of wind swept down upon the canvas structure. A flash of 
ightning, another angry roar from the heavens, which was greeted with a 
howl of fear from the occupants of the cages, then it seemed to Phil as if 
the tent was lifted high in the air. He heard shrill screams of women, 
the hoarse shouts of men, the sharp flapping of the tent, and in another 
instant, just as the struggling mass of human beings attempted to force 
their way out, the tents of the " Great and Only " collapsed, burying 
spectators and employees alike. 

At first Phil was conscious of being held down and to extricate 
himself, or even to so much as move a hand, was impossible. He thought 
of the baby smothering, dying, and he not only realized, but magnified 
the consequences of his disobedience to his parents. The howling and 
shrieking of the wind could be heard above the din caused by the 
animals, and the wet canvas was tossed up and down violently. As the 
heavy canvas was lifted by the wind, Phil involuntarily moved to one side 
or the other, until he suddenly found himself at the very outermost edge 
of the covering ; and when the next blast of wind raised the imprisoning 
weight he rolled himself free. Starting to his feet he ran hurriedly, with 



i58 

a horrible fear tugging at his heart, toward that portion where the dressing- 
room had been located but it was impossible for him to find it. There 
was before him only a mass of sodden canvas from beneath which came 
cries of agony. Phil shouted the baby's name at the full strength of his 
lungs ; but his voice was a whisper compared with the deafening din. 
After what seemed like a very long time the employees of the " Great 
and Only " and the uninjured citizens of the town began their work of 
rescue. 

While Phil was searching for the ruins of the dressing-room a bare- 
headed boy, whose clothing was torn until it literally hung in rags cried 
out "Did you find Sam yet? " 

"Is that you Teddy?" 

" It seems something that way, though I've been pretty nigh squeezed 
out of myself. Did you get hurt?" 

" I wish I had, I'd rather been killed than to have to go home 
an* tell mother poor little Sam is there." And Phil threw himself down 
on the water-soaked canvas and gave himself up wholly to grief. Both 
he and Teddy were drenched to the skin. 

" See here, Phil, this won't do. In the first place there are none 
killed — there's Mr. Hannaford, we'll ask him what to do." 

"The proper course for you boys is to make a house-to-house search. 
The little fellow would be given over to the neighbors." Phil hardly 
waited for the gentleman to cease speaking before he started followed by 
Teddy. 

" You go on that side of the road an' I'll take this," he shouted, 
and the house-to-house search was begun. No one had seen the baby, 
and each person appeared to be so precccupied with his own suffering, 
or that of his neighbor, that but little sympathy was extended. 

An hour passed, and Phil's heart grew faint, when Teddy said, 
" gracious, Phil, we didn't ask at the hotel ! " 

" Of course not, they wouldn't take our Sam there." 

But Teddy literally forced his friend to accompany him, and the two 
boys stood panting in the office of the hotel. " All the circus women are 
on the second floor and M'lle Marie is in No. 14," the proprietor said. 

" There, what did I tell you?" Teddy cried triumphantly. But 
Phil did not wait for further information, he hurried up the stairs and 
knocked at Number 14, and a voice responded, "Come in." 

Teddy entered first, and before he was fairly inside the room, Phil 
darted past him, crying hysterically as he ran toward the bed on which a 
baby lay sleeping peacefully — 



159 

" O, Sam ! Sam ! I have found you, and you ain't dead ! " Phil 
no longer thought Sam a heavy burden, but, raising him in his arms, 
staggered out of the room, with a hymn of thanksgiving in his heart that 
his brother's life had been spared. 

Without any attempt to excuse himself, Phil told the whole story to 
his mother, who without a single word of reproof caught him in her arms 
and gently kissed him. 






i6o 



THE STORY OF CHRISTINE ROCHEFORT. 



BY HELEN CHOATE PRINCE. 



(Printed by permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Publishers.) 
INTRODUCTION. 

Christine D'Arcy, the daughter of a French noble family, married a 
wealthy chocolate manufacturer, Gaston Rochefort. 

Having been educated in England, she has more liberal views than 
her relatives, and sympathizes sincerely with the troubles and anxieties of 
the working people. She had helped them in a thousand little ways, 
unknown to anyone. She even listened to the views of Paul de Martel, 
who, although belonging to the nobility himself, had gone over to the 
agitators who have been disturbing the town. 

This poor little aristocrat meant well, but he made most of the trouble 
among the people. 

A strike has been inaugurated, and the people refuse to make any 
compromise. 

Gaston Rochefort has become severely embarrassed by the stopping 
of the works, has reduced his home establishment, and just before the 
following scene begins, has gone to Paris to sell out his stables. 

Dinner was a mockery as Christine sat alone, served by the silent 
Francois. 

" No coffee to-night, Francois," she said as she left the room, and 
slowly went upstairs to her own fire ; she shivered a little as she sat down 
to read. Her dog, Thor, stretched himself beside her, and slept happily 
after his dinner. Christine could not fix her attention on her book. 
How still the house was ! 

Ah, that must be the wind rising, that low, irregular murmur. Was 
it the wind that sounded like a woman's cry? Was the river rising? 
The confused noise grew louder and nearer; it could not be the river, 
for it came from the direction of the bridge towards which the water 
flowed. A loud ringing at the gate distracted her attention for a moment. 



i6i 

Then a thought came to Christine that stiffened her with terror for a 
moment, and prevented her from moving — it was a mob. 

Christine heard the hoarse growl, grown louder and fiercer, while high, 
maddened shrieks soared at intervals above the steady under-current. 
Thor heard it, too, and burst into loud, snapping barks, jumping fran- 
tically to get through the closed shutters. She rang the bell, but while 
her hand was still on the rope the door burst open, and the frightened 
servants huddled in. 

" The mob, madame, the mob, the mob," they cried. 

"Be calm. Francois, are the doors all locked? " 

" Yes, madame, they are." 

By this time the mob had rushed into the garden and the house was 
surrounded. The cries, ever louder and fiercer, rose in the night air, 
and the words " Down with the Rochefort woman " were plainly heard. 
As they were repeated, a new spirit stirred Christine's breast, her eyes 
flashed and her nostrils dilated ; the haughty pride of her race lying 
dormant within her awoke. 

Leaving the door she went quickly into the hall, Thor following, and 
without a moment's hesitation undid the long window that opened upon 
a balcony and stepped out. The crowd of frantic creatures below 
stopped for a time their wild cries and gazed in silence. 

She stood with her*figure clearly outlined, her head held high, her 
long velvet cloak' sweeping back over her shoulders ; her hair, stirred by 
the night wind, caught the light behind her and gleamed a pale gold. 
In the momentary silence her voice rang out firm and contemptuous — ■- 

" I am here — the Rochefort woman. What do you want? " 

A yeli answered her from the surging mass below — a yell that would 
have frozen her blood had it been less hot with anger than it was :; 
she raised her hand commanding silence, and they listened. 

" I am not afraid of you. I have done you no harm, and it is only 
the guilty who fear. Let one of you tell me what you want, so I may 
understand this riot." 

One of them gave a laugh that was half a groan, as he answered, 
" Done us no harm ? Is it no harm to be spending enough in one day 
for your pleasure to keep us from starvation for a week? You have 
never lifted your hand for us who have built up your husband's fortune. 
You do not know us by sight, and now that we are dying from hunger., 
you never come near us. I call that harm enough." 

" And I call you cowards to come a hundred of you against one 



162 

woman. Let two or three come into the house, and I will talk quietly 
with them, but I will not be frightened by your threats." 

She had impressed them by her fearlessness and unmistakable 
superiority. Two or three of the leaders spoke together while the rest 
stood cowed into submission. She seemed almost a being from another 
sphere for the space of perhaps a moment ; then some one threw an 
empty bottle at her. It whizzed through the air and struck the house 
just above her, and she shrank from the scattered pieces. The spell 
was broken, the divinity became a woman, — a hated woman again, and 
the tumult burst forth with fresh fury. Amid the din of shrieks and 
screams she could catch the words " money, starvation " ; then a voice 
high and hoarse called out, " Burn the house down, and stifle the rat in 
her hole." 

At these words the confusion increased. Christine, could distin- 
guish figures running behind the house towards the stable. A curious 
numbness held her spellbound. These were the people she had longed 
to live among ; for their sufferings she had agonized, and they were going 
to kill her. She was not conscious that her heart beat the faster for the 
thought. She was turning to stone, she believed, but not a detail of the 
scene escaped her. Now she heard a rustling sound, and the peaceful 
odor of hay came to her, as the men returned from the stables, their 
arms filled with it. 

Suddenly there was a diversion. The crowd below cried out, " the 
little aristocrat ! " and Christine felt now she no longer feared, she heard 
Paul de Martel's voice ring out, " Stop where you are. What are you 
doing here, my men? This is the way to hurt our cause, not help it." 

" Monsieur, we're starving, and that woman goes in velvet while we 
freeze." 

" Ah," said Paul, easily, " it does not sound fair, I grant, but you are 
not helping to right it ; listen to me, all of you. Silence there ! I 
am going to tell you something to send you home at once, and you'll be 
glad I saved you from a terrible wrong. Madame is your friend and " — 

A coarse, insulting laugh drowned his words, and the man jeered, 
" Ah, my boys, you needn't believe a thing he says." 

Paul, beside himself with anger, made a dash at the speaker and 
struck him. " You villain ! " The man fell as though he were shot, but 
the tide of favor was turned by the act against Paul. A dozen men sur- 
rounded him. Christine heard a struggle and hard breathing; then 
suddenly the hay, lighted at intervals, blazed up, and in the vivid glare 



163 

she saw him held by two sturdy men, a woolen scarf tied over his face, 
but still struggling. 

An exultant cry echoed through the garden as the flames grew higher 
and licked the side of the house ; they made the terrible scene luridly 
brilliant to the silent spectators on the balcony. Now she could see the 
faces of the crowd animated by hungry ferocity as some ran busily to and 
fro, bringing boards torn from the summer house to feed the fire, while 
others warmed their thin, gaunt hands before it. 

What a pitiful sight it was, all these poor, half-starved men, driven 
by want to desperate deeds. 

But the pity that had been so long the key-note of Christine's char- 
acter was strangled by anger. 

She had been too stunned to think of anything, but suddenly a hope 
came to her, certainly some one would come from the town to save them ; 
some one would see the light of the fire. And even as the hope came it 
died. The house was on the edge of the town. If Paul had failed, no 
one else could succeed. She must face death, and death by fire. She 
turned cold, and then a flush born of agony swept over her when she 
thought of her helpless servants, who would share her fate. 

She bent over the balcony and tried to make some one listen to her 
prayer to set free those who had done nothing to arouse their hate, but in 
vain; one or two among the crowd saw her imploring gestures, and 
answered them by a mocking laugh • and so the work of destruction 
went on. 

Suddenly over the noise and tumult rang out a cry of one delivered, 
and the demon-driven mob looking up, saw Christine extending her arms. 
They turned towards the place her eyes were fixed upon, and they saw 
the abb£, Christine's friend ; he had climbed the wall, and with one 
bound was in their midst. His head was bare, and they instinctively fell 
aside before his rapid progress towards the house. Trampling on the 
burning hay, he sprang up the front steps, and turning towards them he 
lifted a crucifix on high, while he knelt as if before the altar. 

The people stood as if struck by lightning, some holding heavy 
boards just ready to throw on the flames, some stopping in their mad 
course for more fuel ; and then in the breathless silence the abbe" cried : 

" Go, go, and thank God you are saved from a deed of horror and 
its consequences. The regiment is ordered out, and is almost here." 



164 



SERGIUS TO THE LION. 

BY LEW WALLACE. 
An adaptation from " The Prince of India." Copyright, 1893, by Harper & Brothers, Publishers. 



Arranged by Sara Lord Bailey. 



INTRODUCTION. 



The scene is laid in Constantinople, during the reign of the last 
Constantine. The Princess Irene, kinswoman to the emperor and greatly 
beloved by all the people, is a firm friend of the monk Sergius. The 
monk, although belonging to the order of Hegumen, has professed a 
simpler creed. The Princess Irene, whom Sergius terms " Little Mother,' 1 
for she has been an inspiration to him in his belief, shares with him this 
same creed. A short time previous to the opening of our scene Sergius 
has publicly announced his faith to rest on the creed, " I believe in God 
and Jesus Christ, His Son." For this the Hegumen called him "The 
Heretic," and had him condemned to the old lion Tamerlane, in the 
Cynegion. Nilo, a huge African, formerly a savage, but who was attached 
to the Princess Irene and Sergius, had been imprisoned on account of 
services rendered to Sergius, the monk. 



About ten o'clock of the morning a woman, thickly veiled, appeared 
and applied to a boatman for passage to the Cynegion. Twice the 
woman asked if she could have a seat. 

" How many of you are there? " 

" I am alone." 

" You want the boat alone? " 

" s Yes." 

"Well, that can't be. I have seats for several; and wife and four 
babies at home told me to make the most of them." 

" But I will pay you for all the seats." 

"Full five?" "Yes." 

"Jump in, then, while I push through these howling water-dogs." 

" Look ! here is a bezant. Friend, row me swiftly to the first gate 
of the Cynegion, and the piece is yours." 






i65 

" By my blessed patron ! I'll make you think you are on a bird, 
and that these oars are wings. Now ! " 

And in a trice he was going at racing speed. The boats in the 
harbor were moving in two currents, one up, the other down. The inter- 
est was at the farther end of the line, and the day a holiday to the two 
cities, Byzantium and Galata. Yet the woman said never a word after 
the start, but sat with head bowed and her face buried in her hands. 

" We are nearly there," he at length said. 

" Please put me ashore here. I have no time to lose." 

In a few minutes she was on land. She started hastily for the gate. 
Within the Cynegion, she kept on, and ere long was brought to the 
grand stand on the north. She approached a soldier. 

" Good friend, is the heretic who is to suffer here yet? " 

" He was brought out last night." 

" Poor man ! I am a friend of his — may I see him? What are 
your orders? " 

" Not to admit any one." 

"To the cells? " 

"The cells and the arena also." 

" O ! I see. You can let me stand at the gate yonder? " 

" Well — yes. But if you are the monk's friend, why do you wish to 
see him die? " 

She made no reply, but took from a pocket a bezant, and contrived 
to throw it's yellow gleam in the sentinel's eyes. 

" I do not ask you to violate your orders. Only let me go to the 
gate and see the man when he is brought out." 

" Very well. I can see no harm in that. Go." 

The gate in question was open-barred, and permitted a view of 
nearly the whole circular interior. The spectacle presented was so start- 
ling she caught one of the bars for support. Throwing back the veil, 
she looked, breathing sighs which were almost gasps. The circular arena 
was fifty feet in diameter and thickly strewn with wet sand. There were 
walls 20 feet high, shutting it in like a pit, and on top of them, on the 
ascending seats back to the last one — was it a cloud she beheld? A sec- 
ond glance, and she recognized the body of spectators, men, women and 
children, compacted against the sky. How many of them there were ! 
Thousands and thousands ! She clasped her hands and prayed. An 
hour passed thus. If she were indeed a poor, love-lorn creature come to 
steal a last look at the unfortunate, she eked small comfort from her study 
of the cloud of humanity on the benches. Their jollity, their frequent 



i66 

laughter and hand-clapping reached her in her retreat. " Merciful God ! 
Are these beings indeed in Thy likeness? " Suddenly the crowd became 
impatient, and the occupants of the benches applauded long and merrily, 
crying, " Tamerlane ! Tamerlane ! " The woman shrank back terrified. 
At length a man entered the arena from the western gate. Going to the 
centre, he looked carefully around him ; as if content with the inspection, 
he went next to a cell and knocked. Two persons responded by coming 
out of the door ; one, an armed guardsman, the other, the monk. The 
latter wore a black gown dropping to his feet, its sleeves of immoderate 
length, completely muffling his hands. Instantly the concourse on the 
benches arose. There was no shouting — one might have supposed them 
all suddenly seized with shuddering sympathy. But directly a word 
began passing from mouth to mouth. At first it was scarcely more than 
a murmur ; soon it was a byname on every tongue : 

"The heretic ! The heretic ! " 

His guard conducted him to the centre of the field and left him 
there. Sergius, calm, resigned, fearless, turned to the east, rested his 
hands on his breast palm to palm, closed his eyes and raised his face. 
They who saw him with his head upturned, the sunlight a radiant imprint 
on his forehead, and wanting only a nimbus to be the Christ in apparition, 
ceased jeering him ; it seemed to them that in a moment, without effort, 
he had withdrawn his thoughts from this world and surrendered himself. 
They could see his lips move. He was saying, " I believe in God and 
Jesus Christ, His Son." A trumpet rang out from the stand. A door at 
the left of the tunnel gate was then slowly raised ; whereupon a lion 
stalked out of the darkened depths, and stopped on the edge of the 
den. He turned his ponderous head from right to left and up and down, 
like a prisoner questioning if he were indeed at liberty. Having viewed 
the sky and the benches, and filled his deep chest with ample draughts 
of fresh air, suddenly Tamerlane noticed the monk. The head rose 
higher, the ears erected, and, snuffing like a hound, he fretted his shaggy 
mane ; his yellow eyes changed to coals alive, and he growled and lashed 
his sides with his tail. A majestic figure was he now. He stepped out 
into the arena, and shrinking close to the sand, inched forward, creeping 
toward the object of his wonder. Sergius was prepared for the attack, but 
as a non-resistant, if indeed he thought of battle, he was not merely 
unarmed — the sleeves of his gown deprived him of the use of his hands. 
From the man to the lion — from the lion to the man — the multitude 
turned shivering. Presently the lion stopped, whined and behaved 
uneasily. Was he afraid? He began trotting around at the base of the 



167 

wall, halting before the gates, and seeking an escape. From the trot he 
broke into a gallop, without so much as a glance at the monk. A mur- 
mur descended from the benches. It was the people recovering from 
their horror, and impatient. They yelled at the cowardly beast, " Shame, 
shame, Tamerlane ! shame ! " In the height of this tempest the gate of 
the tunnel under the grand stand opened quickly, and was as quickly 
shut. Death brings no deeper hush than fell upon the assemblage then. 
A woman was crossing the sand toward the monk ! Round sped the 
lion, forward she went ! Two victims ! Well worth the monster's hun- 
ger through the three days to be so banqueted on the fourth ! She was 
robed in white. The dress, the action, the seraphic face, were not infre- 
quent on the water, and especially in the churches ; recognition was 
instantaneous, and through the eager, crowded ranks the whisper flew : 

"God o' Mercy ! It is the Princess — the Princess Irene ! " 

Strong men covered their eyes, women fainted. Innumerable arms 
were outstretched, and cries filled the arena with, " Save her ! Save her 1 
Let the lion be killed ! " Then Nilo looked out of his cell. He saw 
the monk, the Princess, and the lion making its furious circuit — saw them, 
and retreated ; but a moment after reappeared, attired in the savageries 
which were his delight. In the waistbelt he had a short sword, and over 
his left shoulder a roll like a fisherman's net. The Princess reached 
Sergius safely, and placed a hand on his arm. 

" Fly, little mother — by the way you came — fly ! O God ! it is too 
late — too late." 

" No, I will not fly. Did I not bring you to this? Let death come 
to us both. Better the quick work of the lion than the slow torture of 
conscience. I will not fly. We will die together. I too believe in God 
and Jesus Christ, His Son." 

She reached up and rested her hand upon his shoulder. The repe- 
tition of the Creed and her companionship restored his courage, and 
smiling, despite the tears on his cheeks, he said : 

" Very well, little mother. The army of the martyrs will receive us, 
and the dear Lord is at His mansion door to let us in." 

The lion now ceased galloping. Stopping over in the west quarter 
of the field, he turned his big, burning eyes on the two thus resigning 
themselves, and crouching, put himself in motion toward them — his mane 
all on end, his jaws agape, the crimson tongue lolling adrip below the 
lips, bent upon his prey. The near thunder of his roaring was exultant 
and awful. Nilo, taking position between the devoted pair and their 
enemy, shook the net from his shoulder with practised hand, and pro- 



i68 

ceeded to give an example of his practice with lions in the jungles of 
Kash-Cush. Keeping the brute steadily eye to eye, he managed so that 
while retaining the leaden balls tied to its disengaged corners one in 
each hand, the net was presently in an extended roll on the ground before 
him. Leaning forward then, his hands bent inwardly knuckle to knuckle 
at his breast, he waited the attack — to the beholders a figure in shining 
ebony, giantesque in proportions, Phidian in grace. Tamerlane stopped. 
Nilo's intent was to bide the lion's leap, and catch and entangle him in 
the net. What nerve and nicety of calculation — what certainty of eye — 
what knowledge of the savage nature dealt with — what mastery of self, 
limb and soul were required for the feat ! Just at this crisis there was a 
tumult in the grand stand. Those who turned that way saw a man in 
glistening armor pushing through the brethren there in most unceremoni- 
ous sort. In haste to reach the front, he stepped from bench to bench. 
On the edge of the wall he tossed his sword and shield into the arena, 
and next instant leaped after them. Before astonishment was spent, 
before they could comprehend the intruder, or make up their minds to 
so much as yell, he had fitted the shield to his arm, snatched up the 
sword, and run to the point of danger. There he took place behind 
Nilo, but in front of the Princess and the monk. His agility, his amaz- 
ing spirit, together with the thought that the fair woman had yet another 
champion, wrought the whole multitude into ecstasy. They sprang upon 
the benches, and those who but a little before had cheered the lion now 
prayed aloud for his victims. Tamerlane surveyed the benches haughtily 
once, then set forward again, intent on Nilo. The movement, in its sinu- 
ous, flexile gliding, resembled somewhat a serpent's crawl. And now he 
neither roared nor growled. The lolling tongue dragged the sand ; the 
beating of the tail was like pounding with a flail ; the mane all erect 
trebly enlarged the head ; and the eyes were like live coals in a burning 
bush. The people hushed. Nilo stood firm ; and behind him the 
Italian, Count Corti, kept guard. Thirty feet away — twenty-five — twenty 
— then the great beast stopped, collected himself, and with an indescrib- 
able roar launched clear of the ground. Up, at the same instant, and 
forward on divergent lines, went the leaden balls ; thf netting they 
dragged after them had the appearance of yellow spray blown suddenly 
in the air. When the monster touched the sand again he was completely 
enveloped. And before the spectators realized the altered condition 
Nilo was stabbing him with the short, glistening sword. The pride of the 
Cynegion lay still — then the benches found voice; " Free ! free ! Sergius 
is free ! Heaven hath signified its will." 



169 



THE DILEMMA. 

BY JOHN S. WOOD. 
An adaptation from " Yale Yarns. 1 



Arranged by Sara Lord Bailey 



(Printed by permission of G. P. Putnam's Sons, Publishers.) 
INTRODUCTION. 

Little Jack Horner had been over to New London to witness the 
annual boat-race between Harvard and Yale, and on the evening of his 
return several of his friends gathered in his room to hear the report, and 
this is what he gave them. 



I took my aunt and sister to the hotel the night before the race so 
as to be ready for the morning boat. I found the gang all there, the 
hotel was crowded, and my aunt and sister had a room just opposite to 
mine on the top floor. Some of the Harvard men had a room next to 
mine, and I foolishly unbolted the door between — you see, I know some 
of those dear Harvard boys almost as well as I know you. Well, they 
celebrated a good deal in the usual Harvard way, up to about three 
o'clock, and then things quieted down and all hands went to sleep. 

When I woke up it was broad daylight. I sprang out of bed and 
looked at my watch. It was nearly ten o'clock and the race was to be at 
eleven. I rushed about the room looking for my clothes, but my clothes, 
my valise and everything was gone. I looked in the next room, I looked 
out in the hall — there wasn't a soul in sight. My aunt and sister were 
not in their room. I opened the window and looked out. Crowds of 
people were walking toward the wharf to take the boat to the race. What 
was I to do ? Those dear Harvard friends of mine thought it a good 
joke on me, I suppose, to steal my clothes and take themselves off to the 
race without waking me up. I shouted and shouted, but no one re- 



170 

sponded. I was nearly wild in my anguish, when I heard a tap at my 
door and my sister's voice saying — 

"Jack, do hurry. Aunt has a headache and can't go to the race,, 
and we'll have to go without her. Please hurry." 

" Molly, they've stolen all my clothes, those Harvard friends" — 

" Well, haven't you anything? " 

" Not a thing, dear, not a thing. Can't you get me something to 
put on? I must see that race." 

" I haven't anything except some dresses and one of Aunt Sarah's. "* 

"That's it! Get my Aunt Sarah's black silk! I haven't seen 
1 Charlie's Aunt ' for nothing. I'll wear anything rather than not see that 
race ! " 

Mollie laughed, she had seen " Charlie's Aunt," too. So she tossed me 
my aunt's black silk dress, lace cap, bonnet, and veil over the transom. 
And in five minutes I looked very much like a nice old lady out to see 
the sights. Mollie was quick and got me out of the hotel, and we hurried 
down to the wharf without any one suspecting me. But there, alas, we 
found the boat was gone ! But, as luck would have it, one of Molly's 
school friends, with a lot of girls and Harvard men were going to see the 
race on a private steam yacht, and were only waiting for their chaperons 
to come from the hotel. Molly talked with her friend, and introduced 
me. I played my part of " Charlie's Aunt " in good style, and they asked 
me if I would be willing to chaperon the crowd. Well, I was willing, you 
can better believe ; for it was late, and I wanted to see the race the worst 
way. 

The Harvard men got us all in their launch as quickly as possible, 
and started off just as the real chaperons put in an appearance on the 
wharf. They waved and waved and shouted, but we weren't going to put 
back ; and off we sped up the river. I couldn't ask for better treatment 
than I received. They gave me the most comfortable seat in the boat 
under an awning. Molly presented all the girls one by one. Several of 
them kissed me. I pretended to be a little seasick and retired to the 
cabin to get away from them. The steward gave me some delicious clam 
broth. Then Molly came down and said, " Aunt, dear, we are going 
under the bridge now, won't you come out on deck? " 

" I shall be delighted, my dear," I said, and she whispered, " Now, 
Jack, do be careful, and don't begin to shout when you catch sight of the 
crew." 

"Oh, you can trust me, I've seen 'Charlie's Aunt' three times." 

Well, J went out on deck, and they placed my chair in the best possible 



i7i 

place to see, and put a footstool under my feet. Friends, I tried my best 
to be calm and easy, but the air, the clam broth, the sight of the yachts, 
and the great excitement I always felt, and always shall feel, just before a 
race at New London — what chap could help giving a yell as the 'Varsity 
slipped out across the river with that perfect, smooth, equal, beautiful 
stroke? And there, boys, were four of my old crew — for me to sit there 
in my Aunt Sarah's black silk dress and see four of my old crew, and not 
yell ! — and not get up and let 'em know that Little Jack was there with 
his eye on 'em, and with them just the same as if he was in the boat, and 
rooting for 'em — well, it was madness ! Boys, the tears rolled down my 
cheeks, I was so excited. My sister said it was the bright sunlight and 
made me put up a parasol ! 

And then, out came Harvard, in very good style, too, and lined up 
alongside. There was but a very little delay, then they were off ! Harvard 
jumped away with the lead, but it didn't last long. Yale slowly walked 
up. Well, when Yale forged a foot or two ahead, I could stand it no 
longer. I jumped up on my chair and yelled, " Yale ! Yale ! Yale ! 
Brekity Kex — coax — coax — got 'em again — got 'em again ! Paraboloo ! 
Ya — ale ! ! ! " Then, I sat down in a hurry, and you ought to have seen 
my Harvard friends. You know what a voice I've got — it reached across 
the river, and yon chaps on the " moving grand stand " heard it and 
yelled back. Consternation reigned on our yacht ! Not only on account 
of the race, but on account of me. My sister pinched me until I nearly 
yelled again, pulled my shawl close around my neck and told them it was 
only a " paroxysm," whatever that was. 

"Your aunt seems quite disposed to give vent to her enthusiasm," 
said one of the Harvard men. " But I hope you will persuade her — as 
this is a Harvard yacht — we would prefer not to encourage Yale." 

"I think I never heard such a shrill* cry," said another. " I fancy 
your aunt must have been in great pain." 

"She has not been well for a long time, trouble here," and my sister 
sadly touched her forehead. The girls looked at me more in sorrow than 
anger. They believed I was deranged. When we came up alongside of 
our crew, who were resting on their oars, just under the great bridge, a 
Harvard man leaned down and calmly whispered in my ear, " Yell all 
you want to. Yell ! — we've a plan to ' do ' you up later, and you may 
as well have all the fun you can out of it now ! " 

I thanked him and stood up and yelled ! I gave 'em the rebel 
yell " Whah-o-o-o Yale !" three times. 

When we returned, I was the last one to step into the launch to go 



172 

ashore, and a Harvard man quietly gave me a sudden push, and over I 
went, head first, into the water. My sister screamed, but they pretended 
they didn't notice anything and the launch sputtered off leaving me to 
swim ashore, or go down and see the oysters below. The sailors aboard 
the yacht looked over the side and laughed at me. 

Indeed I must have been a queer looking object ! My bonnet came 
off and floated away in the water as I started for the shore. After a few 
minutes swim, I was glad enough to hear a familiar voice call out, " Hello, 
Jack, is that you? What in creation are you doing in that rig? " 

I told them it was all right, I was just out for a swim in a hired 
bathing suit. 



i73 



MY DETECTIVE INSTINCT. 

BY EMMA M. WISE. 



(Copyright, 1897, by the Shortstory Publishing Company, Publishers of " The Black Cat." Printed 

by Permission.) 

It was my first experience as a detective. Up to that time I had 
never played a part except in amateur theatricals at home. 

This is the advertisement responsible for all the mischief: 

" Wanted — A lady detective for about a week in a private boarding- 
house. One who can make acquaintances easily preferred. Address, 
stating price per day, by whom employed in the past, reliability and 
references. (Letters confidential.) XYZ Daily Telegram." 

Under the glow of its influence I indited the following letter to XYZ : 

" Having no case on my hands at present, I will investigate the 
trouble at your boarding-house for $5.00 per day, exclusive of room and 
board. I am reliable, energetic and faithful. My business is always kept 
strictly private, therefore I must beg to be excused from giving the 
particulars asked for. Neither do I sign my name when communicating 
with a total stranger. Should you care to hear from me further, address 
me under cover of LMN Daily Telegram." 

And on Tuesday morning when I called at the Telegram office for 
my mail, I received my first surprise. 

" Call at my home tomorrow (Tuesday) at three o'clock for interview. 
" (Mrs.) Jane Rennecker, 360 Oak street. 
" P. S. Do not delay. There is a thief in my house." 

The letter was not in itself startling. Neither was it strange. The 
surprise lay in the fact that the writer was my own landlady ! 

For more than six months I had been living in fancied security at 
360 Oak street, had become pretty well acquainted with all the boarders, 
and I rapidly took a mental photograph of all the habits, peculiarities 
and dispositions of each as I remembered them. In the first place, the 
servants, Mrs. Rennecker, her son Jasper, and I — Constance Stewart — 
were undoubtedly above suspicion. The guilty person must be one of 
six young men living on the second and third floors. It might be Mr. 
Baker who sat at the foot of the table and ate all the celery. I had never 



174 

liked Mr. Baker very well, anyway. Or it might be Mr. Ketchum, who 
walked in his sleep ; or Mr. Harkness might have done it ; Mr. Harkness 
smoked cigarettes. Then there was Messrs. Williamson, Doyle and 
Bentley. Mr. Williamson sniffled when eating soup, Mr. Doyle bit his 
nails, and Mr. Bentley laughed to excess and said "Sure thing " to every 
remark addressed to him. All these were reprehensible habits but not 
exactly criminal, and I did not like to suspect anybody unless it was Mr. 
Baker. 

But whoever the thief, mine was the hand that must bring him to 
justice, and the first thing to do was to pretend that I was somebody 
else. 

I went down town and bought a black wig, a pair of eyeglasses and 
a ready-made, tight-fitting, black cloth dress, with a stiff collar. I paid 
a week's rent on a small room at No. 98 and turned it into a temporary 
dressing-room, whence I emerged at a quarter before three. 

Mrs. Rennecker's eyes were blue ; they rested on me only fleetingly. 
They evidently fathomed nothing. Then she began : 

" What is your name, please, and where are you stopping? " 

" Ada Mosby. My address is 98 Chestnut street." 

It was the first lie I had told — and I was amazed at my glibness. 
Evidently my new role was exactly suited to my abilities. 

" It is needless to waste time on preliminary explanations," said Mrs. 
Rennecker. " I could tell by your letter that you are experienced and 
capable." 

I blushed a little at that and began to feel sorry for Mr. Baker. 

" We will — ah — proceed to business at once," said Mrs. Rennecker. 
" I have, I regret to say, a thief in my house. A woman. 

" She has been boarding with me for — ah — six months. She calls 
herself an artist. Her name is Constance Stewart." 

I felt as though I had severed all relation with the established system 
of gravitation and was whirling through space with the bronze figures of 
Washington and Napoleon on the mantelpiece attending me as satellites. 
When I recovered myself she was saying : 

" She is the worst kind of a thief. She comes into your house and 
robs you in such a way that she cannot be denounced. She has robbed 
me of something of inestimable value. She has stolen my son's heart. 

" My son, Jasper, is desperately in love with her, and — he is already 
as good as engaged to another. Of course it is all her fault. In spite of 
her refined manner, I believe that she is really both designing and un- 
scrupulous. My son Jasper is an eligible husband for any woman, and 






i75 

she knows it. It's my opinion she came here for the sole purpose of 
marrying my son. 

" To begin with, she is decidedly good looking, and, as I said, refined 
in manner. She has soft, light-brown, waving hair, which she wears short, 
a fine, fair complexion and a distinguished presence. You see, I admit 
her attractiveness. She has not much money, I believe, and earns her 
living by decorating china. Oh, to look at her you would fancy her a 
gentlewoman. She gave me excellent references, too. But there's some- 
thing wrong with her. I've been gifted with an almost supernatural 
power of divining human nature, and I am positive that there is some- 
thing wrong with her. What I want you to do is to become intimately 
acquainted with her and find out what it is. The end justifies the means. 
My son is a particularly high-minded young man, and if I could only go 
to him and say, ' Miss Stewart is unworthy of your love,' and prove it to 
him, his affection would turn to hate." 

"Pardon me, but does she know of your son's love? " 

" Know it ? Naturally, when that is what she has been working for 
all the time. But my son has never spoken to her on the subject. He 
is very reserved. I should have never known of his love for Miss Stewart 
if I had not found him one day standing over her photograph, looking at 
it. I could not forbear questioning him. ' Do you love her, Jasper?' 
I said. 

" * Better than all the world,' he answered. ' I have cared for her 
ever since she came here, and I want to make myself good enough for 
her.' 

" As a general thing, a man thinks he is a little better than anything 
else in the world. When you hear one of them talk as Jasper did you 
may know his is a serious case. Indeed, Miss Mosby, I am very proud 
of my son. He is a great student ; he is the soul of honor. We are an 
excellent family. You see it is an unfortunate attachment of which he 
can never be cured except by positive proof of her unworthiness. You 
must be the doctor. The medicine may be bitter, but he must take it." 

"But, why do you not let your son's happiness stand paramount to 
your own wishes and strive to bring about this marriage instead of 
thwarting it? " 

" Because, I don't like her. In spite of her attractiveness my 
intuition tells me that she is not good enough for him. And besides, I 
wish him to marry his cousin. Yet I dare not ask Miss Stewart to leave 
this house, for that would make Jasper desperate and bring things to a 
crisis. Are you ready to stay here now? I want you to meet her 



176 

to-night. Come upstairs. I will show you the room you are to occupy. 
It is next to hers. I wish you to be close to Miss Stewart." 

By 6 o'clock I was installed in the hall bedroom in the capacity of 
Ada Mosby, the detective. At 6.30 I went down to dinner. Mrs. 
Rennecker went into the dining room with me and introduced me as 
" My friend Miss Mosby from Pittsburgh." I was motioned to a seat 
beside Jasper Rennecker and directly opposite my own chair. I had 
never given more than a passing notice to my landlady's son until that 
evening. But the revelation of the afternoon had made him a figure of 
considerable importance in my estimation. I glanced up at him when- 
ever I could do so with impunity, and my newly aroused detective 
instinct perceived many fine points about him hitherto unobserved, and 
when he looked into my face, I thought his dark eyes the most expressive 
I had ever seen. It was strange I had never noticed all that before. 

Dinner was half over before my name was mentioned. 

" I wonder where Miss Stewart is to-night," said Mr. Baker,' at 
length. 

" I wonder, too,'' said Mrs. Rennecker. She looked worried, and I 
could see that the probability that I, as Mr. Hyde, was not going to meet 
myself as Dr. Jekyll, was weighing on her heavily. 

" I wouldn't give myself any uneasiness about it mother," said Jasper. 
" She is able to take care of herself." 

After dinner, not having myself to cultivate, I did the next best thing, 
and began to get acquainted with Jasper Rennecker. Really he was a 
wonderfully interesting man when you once came to know him. 

The next afternoon I went over to Chestnut Street, doffed my detec- 
tive attire, and in the original character of Miss Stewart went around to 
360 Oak Street. 

"Where on earth have you been?" asked Mrs. Rennecker. "I 
wanted to see you so badly last night. I have a friend here from Pitts- 
burgh — a Miss Mosby. I was telling her about you, and she is very 
anxious to meet you." 

For three days I kept up the strain of this double role, appearing 
first in one character, then in the other. Then as Mrs. Rennecker had 
become well-nigh frantic with her endeavors to bring about a meeting 
between my two selves, I was forced to desist. 

" I don't want you to leave this house again for so much as five 
minutes. The minute you step out, Miss Stewart steps in." 

I had been there ten days. Jasper and I sat on the porch one even- 



177 

ing when suddenly he said : " If you keep this thing up much longer, 
you'll drive mother crazy." 

" Keep up what thing," I said. 

"This detective business. You could fool mother, but not me. 
She doesn't love you as I do. I was behind the portiere at your first 
interview, and knew you were Constance Stewart the minute I heard you 
speak." 

"You did," I gasped. "And what did you think? " 

But what he thought, and what he said, and what I said, I shall keep 
to myself. That evening Ada Mosby stepped out of the house, and sent 
the following telegram : 

" Have seen Miss Stewart, and learning of her engagement to your 
son, have thrown up the case. Shall not return. Ada Mosby." 

Out of consideration for Mrs. Rennecker's feelings, neither Jasper 
nor myself have divulged to her the history of that telegram and the epi- 
sode that led up to it. 



i 7 8 



WILLIAM HENRY. 

BY J. L. HARBOUR. 



(By permission of the Author.) 

What William Henry would do next was a problem that kept his 
aunt, Dorinda Hatch, in a state of constant unrest, for, as she expressed 
it, " What William Henry does next is always so much worse than what 
he did last that I can't be prepared for it, no matter what it is." 

" If he wasn't the only child of my only sister, and she dead and in 
her grave, and if I hadn't promised her on her death-bed to take William 
Henry and be a mother to him, I couldn't stand it at all if it wasn't for 
the fact that I know William Henry doesn't mean to make so much 
trouble." 

There was nothing really mean or vicious about William Henry ; but 
"ihe was woefully heedless, and had a surprising capacity for mischief, 
although only ten years of age and hardly as large as the average boy of 
eight. 

" He can think of more things to do in one day than ten other boys 
can think of in a month." 

One day in May, Aunt Dorinda fell to worrying because William 
Henry had led a blameless life for three whole days. 

" When William Henry doesn't do anything upsetting for three whole 
days he's either going to come down with a sick spell or he's going to do 
something extraordinary." 

But William Henry was not at that moment engaged in doing any- 
thing "upsetting." The day was rainy, and the boy was up in his Aunt 
Dorinda's attic, examining the varied contents of some old trunks. He 
was, it is true, creating a great deal of disorder, but a little disorder gave 
her no concern. 

William Henry had probed to the bottom of a small red chest con- 
taining nothing but old papers and letters and books, when he picked up 
a faded, yellow pasteboard card about six or eight inches long by five or 
six in width. On the card, in large, black letters, was printed : small 
pox HERE. 



179 

On the back of this gruesome relic was written in Aunt Dorinda's 
angular hand, " This card was tacked to my Father's front door from Jan. 
ioth, 1845 t0 Apr, i6th,i845 durin whitch time my father and two of my 
ants and two brothers and one sister had smallpox. One ant died but all 
the others got well. I did not have it as I was not Born until the next 
yeer. There was an eppydemic of smallpox here in 1845 but it was not 
fatal except in the case of my ant and 2 others." 

William Henry took the card to the one cobwebbed window of the 
attic, brushed the dust from it with his sleeve and slowly spelled out his 
aunt's bad writing, then he buttoned the card under his jacket. 

" I'm going to show that card to Jack Hooper," he thought. " He 
was bragging the other day that he had had two uncles die of yellow fever, 
and he acted as if he didn't believe it when I said I'd had an aunt die of 
the smallpox. I'll show him if I didn't ! I wish I could find something 
up here to prove how one of my great-uncles was blown up in a boiler 
explosion — he acted as if he didn't believe that, either." 

Unable to find such evidence, and the sun having suddenly shone 
forth, William Henry went down-stairs, where his aunt set him to sweep- 
ing the rain and some drifted cherry blossoms from the front porch. He 
had begun to perform this task when the card slipped from under his 
jacket to the floor of the porch. William Henry picked it up, punched a 
little hole in it and hung it on a nail driven into a pillar of the porch, on 
which his aunt daily hung the card to call the iceman. 

When the front porch was swept the side porch needed William 
Henry's attention. Just as he had finished sweeping it Dan Covel came 
running up to him and reported that the heavy rains has caused the 
river to rise like " all fury," so that there was the delightful prospect of an 
overflow in the lower part of the town. At this exciting news William 
Henry hurried away to the river with Dan. The forgotten smallpox card 
was left hanging on the post. 

An hour later Aunt Dorinda was seated by an upper front window 
sewing, when she saw old lady Draper come in at the front gate. 

"Dear me ! " thought Aunt Dorinda, " I hope she hasn't come to 
stay all day. She's as deaf as a post and it hoarses me all up to screech 
to her the way I have to." 

But Aunt Dorinda was saved this ordeal, for when she went down to 
the front door to admit her visitor she was amazed to see the old lady 
turn on the lower step of the porch and go hurrying toward the gate, 
screaming in affright : 



i8o 

" Go back, go back, 'Rindy Hatch ! Don't you come nigh me ! 
Oh, my land ! I'll ketch it, sure as shootin' ! Go back " 

She waved her hands frantically and glanced back over her shoulder 
in terror. 

Once outside the gate she turned and called shrilly, " Who's got it? " 

" Got what?" asked Mrs. Hatch, but when she stepped out on to 
the porch Mrs. Draper cried out sternly, " Don't you dare come nigh 
me ! " and fled down the muddy road. 

" Well, I'll be switched ! " exclaimed Mrs. Hatch, as she stepped 
back into the house. " If that don't beat me ! I've heard before that 
there was insanity in her family." 

She went back to her window and had hardly taken up her sewing 
when she saw a man, unmistakably an agent of some sort, enter the gate. 

" I'll make short shift of him," said Aunt Dorinda, irritably, as she 
went down stairs. "I don't want any book, or furniture polish, or patent 
nutmeg grater, or soap, or imperishable lamp-wick, or nothing ! And I'll 
tell him so ! " 

But just as she opened the door the man turned and fled so pre- 
cipitately that he slipped on the wet boards of the walk and fell headlong. 
He sprang up with all possible speed and the latch of the gate not work- 
ing readily, he jumped over the fence and ran down the road without a 
word. 

" Well, upon my word ! " exclaimed Mrs. Hatch. " I wish I could 
get rid of all agents that easy. I declare if the fellow isn't running still ! " 

Half an hour later an extremely dirty tramp came shuffling down the 
road and stopped at the gate. Aunt Dorinda watched him from her seat 
by the window. He came half way up the walk, and when Mrs. Hatch 
raised the window, he too, turned and fled without even looking back. 

" There must be something skeery about me," said Mrs. Hatch. 
" I'll see." She went to a mirror in the room and looked at herself. 

"I don't see but what I look as I always look," she said. " I know 
I'm rather homely, but I never knew that I was homely enough to scare 
a tramp out of his senses." 

The Hatch house was in the suburbs of the town. The nearest 
house was a considerable distance down the road. Old Mrs. Draper had 
stopped at this house, which was occupied by a family named Jaynes. 

Soon after the disappearance of the tramp Mrs. Hatch saw Teddy 
Jaynes, a boy of thirteen, come up the road. When he reached the gate 
he began to scream at the top of his voice, " S-a-a-a-y ! S-a-a-y there I 
Mis' Hatch ! " 



i8i 

Mrs. Hatch raised the window, whereupon Teddy threw a good- 
sized stone with such violence that it dented the front door. " There's 
a note tied to the stone," he called out. 

"What do you mean by acting so? Come here and tell me ! " 

" Not much, T won't ! " retorted Teddy. " Ma said for me not to 
go inside the gate or I might ketch it ! She said for me to run like 
lightning soon as I'd thrown the note, and I'm going to ! " and away 
he sped. 

"Another lunatic," said Mrs. Hatch. Smoothing out the crumpled 
bit of paper, she read : 

" Dear Mrs. Hatch — We are very sorry to know of the dreadful 
affliction that has been visited upon you and would be only too glad to do 
anything we could do at such a time. We are extremely anxious to 
know who has it, and if it is Mr. Hatch will you please hang a red cloth 
out of your upper south window, which we can see plainly from our side 
porch. If it is William Henry please hang out a white cloth, and if it is 
your dear. old mother hang out both a white and red cloth. You can't 
tell how sorry we are for you, and we sincerely hope that all will come 
out well. Mary C. Jaynes." 

"Well, I'm beat! I've no more idea than the man in the moon 
what Mary Jaynes means ! I'd like to see myself hanging out red and 
white rags without knowing what I'm hanging them out for ! I know 
what I'll do ! I'll go straight down to the Jaynes's and ask them what 
they mean, that's what I'll do ! " 

A few moments later Mrs. Hatch went down the road, holding her 
calico skirts well up out of the mud. She looked anxious and irritated. 

Teddy Jaynes was swinging on the front gate, and when he saw her 
approach he sped into the house. The next moment half a dozen 
frightened Jaynes faces appeared at the front window and said, in a tone 
of entreaty : 

" Please don't come any nigher, Mrs. Hatch ! If there is anything 
we can do for you, say so, and we'll do it gladly, but don't expose us all 
by coming into the house ! " 

" Nonsense ! I'm coming in to find out what you meant by sending 
me that silly note ! I'm going to — " 

She started toward the house, when not only the window but all of 
the shades were pulled down, and all the response she got to her knock- 
ing on the door came from Mrs. Jaynes, who seemed to be speaking from 
some place of safety and seclusion upstairs. 

"Go away, Mrs. Hatch ! " she said, sternly. "I want to be neigh- 



l82 

borly and do what's right, but I can't and won't have you come into the 
house. Please go away ! " 

This made Mrs. Hatch so indignant that she said, hotly, " Well, I'll 
go, Mary Jaynes, and I'll stay gone, and I'll thank you never to darken 
my door again ! " And Mrs. Hatch departed, angrier and more puzzled 
than before. 

She entered her own domain by a side gate and door and thus failed 
to discover the small-pox placard. 

She had been at home about one-half an hour when she saw Miss 
Nancy Dart, a warm-hearted, elderly woman who lived in the village, 
approaching the house. 

" There comes Nancy Dart," said Mrs. Hatch. " I wonder if she'll 
have a fit and streak off crazy like every one else who's been here today." 

But Nancy Dart walked boldly to the door and rang the bell. 
When Mrs. Hatch hurried down, the somewhat emotional Nancy 
exclaimed : 

" I've heard about it, Mrs. Hatch, and I've come right up to stay 
with you and see you through it. You know I'm a born nurse, and I've 
had the disease, and I haven't forgot how good you were to me when I 
had typhoid fever so long, five years ago. I've brought things enough in 
my bag to do me a month and I'm going to stay and help you out, and 
don't you feel so dreadful over it all. Everybody's dreadful sorry for you, 
and I don't think that the town authorities will insist on any of you being 
carried to the pest-house, for you live so far out and kind of isolated. I 
met Jonas Dyke, one of the selectmen, on my way here, and he said he 
didn't think you'd need to go out to the pest-house if you was properly 
quarantined here. Now, who's got it ! " 

" Got what, Nancy Dart? " 

" I'd say ' what ' with a smallpox card on my front porch, Dorindy 
Hatch!" 

" What do you mean? " 

" Just what I say ! Do you mean to say that you don't know that 
there is a smallpox card on your front porch post? " 

Nancy stepped out on to the porch, and pointed to the card ; Mrs. 
Hatch stared at it, then she said : 

" It's some of William Henry's doings. I knew something awful 
would come of his being so good three whole days." 

"And you haven't any smallpox here? " 

" No more than you have." 

" Well, it's all over town that you've smallpox here." 



1 8 3 

Mrs. Hatch groaned and said sternly, " I'll settle with William 
Henry ! " 

The fact that William Henry had had no intention of causing so 
much trouble did not save him from his aunt's wrath. 

"A boy like you never gets a punishment amiss," she said, "and 
I've let you go many a time when I ought to have whipped you. So just 
take off your jacket, William Henry Myers ! " 



184 



THE BOOKS OF THE BIBLE. 



[Practice with great care — boldly.'] 

In Genesis the world is made by God's creative hand ; 

In Exodus the Hebrews march to gain the promised land ; 

Leviticus contains the Law, holy, and just, and good ; 

Numbers records the tribes enrolled, all sons of Abraham's blood 

Moses, in Deuteronomy, records God's mighty deeds ; 

Brave Joshua into Canaan's land the hosts of Israel leads 

In Judges their rebellion oft provokes the Lord to smite ; 

But Ruth records the faith of one well pleasing in His sight. 

In First and Second Samuel of Jesse's son we read ; 

Ten tribes in First and Second Kings revolted from his seed ; 

The First and Second Chronicles see Judah captive made ; 

But Ezra leads a remnant back by princely Cyrus' aid. 

The city walls of Zion Nehemiah builds again, 

While Esther saves her people from- the plots of wicked men. 

In Job we read how faith will live beneath affliction's rod ; 

And David's Psalms are precious songs to every child of God. 

The Proverbs like a goodly string of choicest pearls appear ; 

Ecclesiastes teaches men how vain are all things here ; 

The mystic song of Solomon exalts sweet Sharon's Rose, 

While Christ the Saviour and the King " rapt Isaiah " shows. 

The warning Jeremiah, apostate Israel scorns, 

His plaintive lamentations their awful downfall mourns ; 

Ezekiel tells in wondrous words of dazzling mysteries, 

Whilst kings and empires yet to come, Daniel in visions sees. 

Of judgment and of mercy Hosea loves to tell ; 

Joel describes the blessed day when God with man shall dwell. 

Among Tekoa's herdsmen Amos received his call ; 

Whilst Obadiah prophecies of Edom's final fall, 

Jonah enshrines a wondrous type of Christ our risen Lord. 

Micah pronounces Judah lost ; lost, but again restored. 

Nahum declares on Ninevah just judgment shall be poured. 

A view of Chaldea's coming down Habakkuk's visions give ; 



i*5 

Next Zephaniah warns the Jews to turn, repent and live. 

Haggai wrote to those who saw the temple built again ; 

And Zachariah prophecies of Christ's triumphant reign. 

Malachi was the last who touched the high prophetic chord, 

Its final notes sublimely show the coming of the Lord. 

Matthew and Mark, and Luke and John, the holy Gospels wrote, 

Describing how the Saviour died, His life, and all he taught. 

Acts prove how God the Apostles owned with signs in every place ; 

St. Paul in Romans, teaches us how man is saved by grace. 

The Apostle in Corinthians instructs, exhorts, reproves ; 

Galatians shows that faith in Christ alone the Father loves. 

Ephesians and Philippians tell what Christians ought to be ; 

Colossians bids us live to God and for eternity. 

In Thessalonians we are taught the Lord will come from heaven ; 

In Timothy and Titus a Bishop's rule is given. 

Philemon marks a Christian's love which only Christians know ; 

Hebrews reveals the Gospel prefigured by the Law ; 

James teaches without holiness faith is but vain .and dead ; 

St. Peter points the narrow way in which the saints are led. 

John, in his three epistles, on love delights to dwell ; 

St. Jude gives awful warning of judgment, wrath and hell ; 

The Revelation prophecies of that tremendous day, 

When Christ and Christ alone shall be the trembling sinner's stay. 



CONTENTS 



1. EXEEOISE. 



Positions, Bows, Breathing Exercises : Effusive, Expulsive, Explo- 
sive. Drill of the Seven Long Sounds. Drill to Attain 
Flexibility of Fingers, Wrists, Hands, Arms. Voice and 
Gesture Drill, " The Fairies." ...... 7 

II. EXEEOISE. 

Breathing : Active and Passive Chest, Abrupt, Delsarte. Arm 
Movements. Drill of the Seven Short Sounds. Vocal 
Culture Drill. Articulated Whisper : Effusive, Expulsive, 
Explosive. . . . . . . . . . .10 

III. EXEEOISE. 

Drill of the Double Sounds. Alphabet of Articulation. A 

Little Boy's Poem as recited by himself. . . . 13 

IV. EXEEOISE. 

Drill of the Half Vocals. First Set of Oppositions. Voice 
and Gesture Drill, " Those Evening Bells.'.' Difficult Sen- 
tences for Practice. . . . . . . . 17 

V. EXEEOISE. 

Tongue Tones. Nasals. Elementary Drill of the Hands and 
Fingers. Voice and Gesture Drill, "The Arabic Parable," 
Chart of Elementary Sounds. . . . . . .21 

VI. EXEEOISE. 

Toneless Sounds : Explosive, Continuous. Drill of Inflections : 
Rising, Falling, Circumflex. Special Inflections : Exclamations, 
Cries, Sobs, Sighs, Groans, Laughter. Cadence. Climax. . 24 



VII. EXEEOISE. 

PAGE 

Front Scale Vowels. Back Scale of Vowels. Head, Arm, 
Shoulder. Gesture, " Hamlet's Advice to the Players." The 
Nine Artistic Attitudes : Calm Thought, Defiance, Grief, Famil- 
iarity, Indecision, Respect, Suspense, Animation, Exhaltation. . 29 

VIII. EXEEOISE. 

Time : Quick, Very Quick, Moderate, Slow, Very Slow. Elementary 

Drill of Time. ......... 34 

IX. EXEEOISE. 
Force : Gentle, Moderate, Loud, Impassioned, Sustained. Element- 
ary Drill of Force. ........ 40 

X. EXEEOISE. 
Pitch : High, Very High, Middle, Low, Very Low. Elementary 

Drill of Pitch. . . . . . . . . . 44 

XL EXEEOISE. 

Stress : Radical, Final, Median, Thorough, Compound, Intermittant. 

Elementary Drill of Stress. ...... 48 

XII. EXEEOISE. 

Qualities : Pure, Oratund, Oral, Falsetto, Aspirate, Guttural, Semi- 
aspirate, Nasal. Onomatopoetic : The Drum, Whistles, Bells, 
Bird Tones, Echo. . . . . . . . . 5 1 

XIII. EXEEOISE. 

Examples Introducing Twenty-six Positions of the Arm : Decla- 
ration, Affirmation, Negation, Maintaining, Contempt, Medita- 
tion, Acquiring, Threatening, Animation, Determination, Hold- 
ing, Indicating, Revealing, Supplicating, Accusation, Humility, 
Benediction, Mental Convulsion, Caressing, Attacking, Glorifica- 
tion, Rejection, Acceptance, Calm Repose, Exultation, Good- 
night 58 

XIV. EXEEOISE. 

Elementary Gesture Drill. Descriptive Gesture Drill. . . 60 

XV. EXEEOISE. 

Pantomimes : Meditation, Listening, Looking, Surprise, Formal Salu- 
tation, Welcome, Expectation, Rejection, Indignant Command, 
Arrogance, Anger, Defiance, Fear, Honor, Spiritual Joy, Appeal, 
Humility, Prayer, Faith, Farewell. ...... 63 



SELECTIONS. 
/ 

PAGE 

Laddte, ........ i\uthor of " Miss Toosey's Mission" 69 

The Chariot Race, .... Lew Wallace 74 

Life for Life, ... . . . Elbridge S. Brooks 80 

The Silver Teapot, . . . Anon 85 

The Boston Vender's Call, . Anon 89 

How the Ladies Usually Fish, Anon 92 

The Daughter of the Regi- 
ment, Ouida 94 

A Bedtime Classic, .... J. L. Harbour 100 

Mrs. Sniffins' Adven lure with 

a Dramatic Elocutionist, . Anon 102 

A Matrimonial Venture, . . Gertrude Potter Daniels, . . .105 

Papa and the Boy, . . . . J. L. Harbour 109 

Then Ag' in, S. W. Foss 112 

The Little Tin Trumpet, . James Workman 113 

Jimmy Brown, W. L. Alden 120 

"Waikiki,-" Rollin M. Daggett 122 

The Stranded Ship, . . . L. Clarke Davis 124 

Putting the Baby to Sleep, J. L. Harbour 130 

The Auctioneer's Gift, . . S. W. Foss 133 

Quo Vadis, Henryk Sienkiewicz 134 

Sunday Thieves, J. T. Trowbridge 140 

The Mourning Veil, . . . J. L. Harbour 145 

A Meeting of Royalty, . . Margaret Dodge 148 

Going to the Circus, . . . James Otis 153 

The Story of Christine 

Rochefort, Helen Choate Prince 160 

Sergius to the Lion, . . . Lew Wallace 164 

The Dilemma, John S. Wood 169 

My Detective Instinct, . . Emma M. Wise 173 

William Henry, J. L. Harbour 178 

The Books of the Bible, . Anon 184 



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